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MONSIEUR D'OR 



BY THE SAM:E AUTHOR, 

A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL TAYLOR 
COLERIDGE. With portrait. Edition limited 
to three hundred copies, printed from type, 
and a large paper edition of thirty copies. 

Regular Edition $ 4.00 net. 

Large Paper Edition 10.00 net. 

EARLY REVIEWS OF ENGLISH POETS. 

With Introduction and Notes. 

Regular Edition $1.20 net. 

Library Edition 2.00 net. 

THE NAME OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 

A Study in Orthography. 

Regular Edition $1.00 net. 



MONSIEUR D'OR 



A DRAMATIC FANTASY 



BY 



JOHN LOUIS HANEY 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE EGERTON PRESS 

1910 



This edition is limited to two hundred and fifty copies 
printed from type and numbered. 



No. 



Copyright, 1910 
By John Louis Haney 



All rights, including presentation and translation, are reserved. 
Application concerning public performances should be made to 
The Egerton Press, 934 North Eleventh Street, Philadelphia. 



Press of 
The new Era Printing company 

LANCASTER. PA. 



D 224.08 



TO 



IHq f ar^ttta 



Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 

Bright and yellow, hard and cold, 

Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled; 

Heavy to get, and light to hold; 

Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold, 

Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled ; 

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old 

To the very verge of the churchyard mould ; 

Price of many a crime untold; 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 

Good or bad a thousand fold ! 

— Thomas Hood 



THE CHARACTERS 

The Prolog 

ROBERT DORR 

SIDNEY HASTINGS 

JACK NORGATE 

BILLY FANSHAWE 

PERCY MIDDLETON 

HAROLD WESTBROOK 

Mrs. SARA KEENE 

ELEANOR RICHMOND, her niece 

MARIAN WINTHROP 

MARGARET THURBER 

ROSE LOWELL 

GERTRUDE PASTON 

Scene I 

MONSIEUR D'OR 

RAOUL LEHMANN 

FREDERIC LEHMANN, his brother 

M. BERTINE, their secretary 

M. ALBERT 

M. LORRAINE 

ADRIENNE COURTEAUX 

CELESTE BERGERE 

M. FREMIET 

Scene II 

MONSIEUR D'OR 
ADOLPHE LEMAIRE 
JEAN MOREAU 
HENRI VAUX 

HELENE VAUX, his daughter 
Mme. CYPRIENNE DACIER 
Mme. LUCETTE CLARY 
BAPTISTE, a servant 

7 



8 Monsieur D'Or 

Scene III 

MONSIEUR D'OR 

SIR MORTIMER MUIRHEAD 

Mr. GILBERT, his secretary 

BARON GRAEFFLINGEN 

Herr LOBEN, his secretary 

MARQUIS FALLOT 

COUNT ANDRIEV 

CLAIRE LASALLE, a stenographer 

Scene IV 

MONSIEUR D'OR 

Dr. MIRSKY 

RAMANAND, an Oriental 

CYRIL, a boy 

EDITH PACKARD, a nurse 

Epilog 

ROBERT DORR 
Mr. MATHEWS 
ELEANOR RICHMOND 
Mr. HANSON, her secretary 

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen play- 
ers. See note on page lo. 



THE PROLOG 

A terrace adjoining the Dorr Villa at Lenox. 

SCENE I 
The office of Lehmann Freres, St. Gallen. 

SCENE II 
The music room of the Chateau D'Or, near Versailles. 

SCENE HI 

A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken. 

SCENE IV 
A chamber in a Balkan palace. 

THE EPILOG 
A parlor in the Hotel Orient, Port Said. 

Fifteen years elapse between the Prolog and the Epilog. 



NOTE 

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players 
as follows: 



Prol. 


Sc. I 


Sell 


Sc. Ill 


Sc. IV 


Epil. 


Dorr 


D'OR 


D'OR 


D'OR 


D'OR 


DORR 


Westbrook 


R. Lehmann 


Lemaire 


Muirhead 


Ramanand 




Hastings 


F. Lehmann 


MOREAU 


Gilbert 


Mirsky 


Hanson 


Fanshawe 


Bertine 




Lob EN 




Mathews 


NORGATE 


Albert 


Baptiste 


Fallot 






MiDDLETON 


Fremiet 




Andriev 








Lorraine 


Vaux 


Graefflingen 


r 




Mrs. Keene 












Eleanor 


Adrienne 


Helene 


Claire 


Edith 


Eleanor 


Marian 


Celeste 










Margaret 




Cyprienne 






Gertrude 




Lucette 








Rose 








Cyril 





lO 



MONSIEUR D'OR 

THE PROLOG 

[A handsome terrace adjoining the ball room of the 
Dorr Villa. Wide marble steps in the rear lead to a 
higher tesselated walk with marble balustrades. As it is 
night there is only a dim vista of the beautiful gardens 
beyond. On the right there is a similar approach by 
marble steps to the higher level. The ball room is 
reached by steps on the left. Its glass doors and deep 
windows are draped with exquisite lace curtains. Palms 
and other exotic plants are placed appropriately about the 
terrace; large, gaudy Japanese lanterns are strung over- 
head at various points. At each side of the terrace there 
is, in front of a bank of potted plants, a large marble bench 
provided with silk cushions. The orchestra in the ball 
room is playing a delightful Viennese waltz as the curtain 
rises. During the earlier part of the scene recurrent noise 
of laughter and chatter is heard from the dancers and their 
shadows are reflected on the curtains of the room. As 
the various couples emerge from the ball room or enter 
from the rear they engage in mutual conversation as they 
promenade without regard for the others. The charac- 
ters all suggest superabundant wealth and a marked air 
of flippancy in the consciousness of their social pre- 
eminence. A few moments after the rising of the curtain 
Sidney Hastings and Marian Winthrop enter from 
the ball room.'\ 

II 



12 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

Marian. So the court granted her the custody of the 
children ? 

Sidney. And he is forbidden to marry again during 
her life time. 

Marian. She gets alimony, of course? 

Sidney. Fifty thousand a year. 

Marian. Poor Mabel! She'll spend that in three 
months. I really believe the dear girl will have to make 
up with him or find some one else who is willing to take 
her with the youngsters. There's three of them, you 
know, Sid — and large families are not fashionable now. 
She'll never manage to scrape along on fifty thousand. 
Why, he used to give her that in jewels every year! 

Sidney. I believe you're right, Marian. It seems a 
bit hard, doesn't it? 

Marian. ^Mabel would have done better if she had 
gone to Reno. They're specialists out there, you know — 
they would have given her a square deal. [^They pass up 
the steps at the right and return slowly by the upper walk 
to the ball room. Meanwhile Billy Fanshawe and 
Margaret Thurber enter direct from the ball room.^ 

Billy. Yes, the whole story is in the New York papers 
this evening. Shot himself through the mouth and didn't 
live a minute. I felt sorry for the poor devil! Did you 
know him? 

Margaret. I knew his wife — she was Susie Caxton 
— one of the Amherst Caxtons. Lucky there's no chil- 
dren. Why did he do it, Billy? 

Billy. I suppose he couldn't stand the pace his par- 
ticular Amherst Caxton was setting for him. He was 
only a bank clerk, you know, and trying to keep up with 
people who spent as much in a week as he earned in a year. 



LOG Monsieur D'Or I3 

Margaret. I thought he had an important position 
at the bank. 

Billy. My dear Margaret, how innocent you are! 
His position was important enough, but they didn't pay 
him more than they had to. He tried the stock-market 
to help him out and before he knew it he was juggling 
the deposit slips like a professional crook. The warrant 
was out for his arrest and he knew it. That's why he 
turned the gun upon himself. 

Margaret. Poor little Susie! She gave up Charlie 
Decker, who is worth at least ten millions, to marry that 
man. I suppose we've seen the last of her. [During 
the latter part of the conversation Percy Middleton and 
Rose Lowell have entered from the ball room and have 
walked across the back of the stage, so that they now pass 
Billy and Margaret at the right and proceed along the 
front while the other two sit on the bench at the right 
side and converse.l 

Rose. You shouldn't associate with that woman, 
Percy — she's a notorious character. 

Percy. She's not so bad. You girls are simply jeal- 
ous. Besides, there's always a lot of reporters and john- 
nies hanging around her dressing-room. There's no 
chance to get really intimate. She seems to think a lot 
of me, though— you ought to hear her call me ' mon cher 
Pairsee '—she's not strong on English, you know. 

Rose. I don't know. 

Percy. Well, that's why I'm telling you. The other 
night I said to her, 'Natalie, your tongue can't speak 
English, but your eyes can speak every language there is 
in the world.' [Billy and Margaret rise from the 
bench and return to the ball room by the upper walk.^ 



14 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

RosE. That was rather neatly put, Percy. 

Percy. [Flattered.] Wasn't it? The reporters wanted 
to write it up for the papers, but I called them off. 
Natalie doesn't like notoriety. She's not such a bad one, 
Rose, when you get to know her. Of course, she likes 
a bird and a bottle after the show and she gets a bit lively 
at times, but she doesn't lose her self-control. She's a 
thoroughbred. She's not like that Margaret Thurber 
we passed just now. At the Decker dance last week that 
girl just stowed away champagne till she fell off her 
chair. Now Natalie would know better than that ; she's — 

Rose. See here, I don't want to hear any more about 
that vulgar chorus girl — 

Percy. Oh! you're just jealous — like the rest of 
them. Maybe Natalie wouldn't get a fit if she saw me 
out here in the dark with you. I believe she'd scratch 
your eyes out. She's a spunky little filly — she's a real 
thoroughbred. You've got to treat her right. [As they 
pass off right to the garden. Jack Norgate and Ger- 
trude P ASTON stroll along the rear terrace froTU the left 
and come down by the central steps.] 

Gertrude. There's Rose Lowell with that silly 
Percy Middleton. I don't see how she can tolerate the 
fellow. 

Jack. That's no enigma. He's worth three or four 
millions, whereas the Lowells are not rich. 

Gertrude. It's cruel of you, dear, to say that. Rose 
isn't the sort of girl to marry for money. 

Jack. Why, Gertie, she must marry for money, 
whether it's cruel or not to say so. I'm sorry there's 
nothing more promising than Percy on her matrimonial 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 15 

horizon. Shall we sit down a while? [They take seats 
on the bench at the right.~\ 

Gertrude. He's a disgusting creature, Jack. I wish 
the Dorrs wouldn't invite him to their affairs. 

Jack. Have you heard of his escapade with Mrs, 
Vansant ? 

Gertrude. Ah! that impudent Vansant woman! 
What has she been doing to Percy? 

Jack. They gave her charge of a booth at the charity 
bazaar and when trade grew slack she announced that she 
would auction off a dozen kisses among the men. Just 
then Percy came along and bid fifty dollars for the entire 
dozen. That silenced the rest and she had to accept 
Percy's bid. He promptly paid the money, took one kiss, 
and notified her that he reserved the rest for future 
delivery. 

Gertrude. What did Mrs. Vansant say to that? 

Jack. Oh! she was game! She told Percy that she 
was ready whenever he was. I presume he will collect 
those kisses one at a time whenever he can make himself 
sufficiently conspicuous in doing it. 

Gertrude. How disgusting ! Buying and selling kisses ! 

Jack. You're right, dearest! Kisses were not meant 
to be sold. [He looks around towards the ball room to 
make sure that they are alone, then kisses her passion- 
ately. Meanwhile Percy and Rose have re-entered from 
the right just in time for the tender scene. It is too late 
to retreat, so they tiptoe awkwardly and hurriedly across 
the back of the terrace to the ball room.^ 

Gertrude. [Freeing herself.'] How imprudent, Jack. 
Somebody might have seen us. 



1 6 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

Jack. Now don't scold me, Gertie. I made sure 
that we were alone; besides, I don't often get a chance — 

Gertrude. [Curtly.'] Won't you take me back to 
the ball room? [They rise and walk towards the left.'\ 

Jack. You're not angry, I hope? We were talking 
of kisses, dear, and I simply couldn't help it. 

Gertrude. We were talking of Percy Middleton's 
buying the kisses of that odious grass-widow. 

Jack. I'll admit that I did wTong, and I'm very, very 
sorry. Does that satisfy you? [After a pause.~\ Now 
let's kiss and make up. 

Gertrude. [Smiling.] Another kiss! Jack, you're 
incorrigible. [She kisses him tenderly.] You dear boy! 
Will it always be like this? 

Jack. [Taking her in his arms.] Always — forever 
— and so on for eternity. We shall be all in all to each 
other and the rest of the world will be as nothing to us. 
Just you and I — we two alone — 

Gertrude. Dear Jack ! I am so happy ! [ They enter 
the ball room. From the rear Harold Westbrook and 
Eleanor Richmond come slowly down the central 
steps; her demeanor is serious, his is somewhat depressed. 
They seat themselves on the bench at the left side.] 

Eleanor. How soon do you leave? 

Harold. In a few days. The ranch is a large one 
and I'm needed out there. I had no Intention of asking 
you so soon, Eleanor — I'm afraid fortune has been against 
me, but It was my last chance to see you alone — I had to 
speak ! 

Eleanor. [With sympathy.] I am heartily sorry it 
cannot be otherwise, but our decisions in the real crises of 
life seem often not to rest with ourselves. 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 17 

Harold. Have you no hope to offer me ? No chance 
that some day you may be willing to join me in the West, 
to work out our destinies together in the great world 
beyond the plains? 

Eleanor. No, I feel sure it can never be — but I 
hope we shall remain good friends. I want to hear from 
you, Harold, and I shall pray for your happiness in your 
new home. I shall always remember that you have paid 
me the sincerest tribute that a true man can offer a 
woman. You have put a consecrated seal upon our 
friendship. No matter what our lot may be in the days 
to come, we must never forget this night. 

Harold. Heaven knows, I shall never forget it. 
There is consolation in the thought that you are not going 
entirely out of my life. Your kindness has brought a 
soothing calm over my great grief. I have no right to 
ask if there is another to whom you have given your heart, 
but Heaven has indeed blessed that man. 

Eleanor. Heaven has blessed every man and every 
woman who has known true love. If our human frailty 
is such that we can never comprehend the full measure 
of that blessing, we should at least be thankful for what- 
ever glimpse of the divine vision is granted us. 

Harold. You know best, Eleanor — your soul speaks 
with a clearer insight than mine. I shall abide by your 
decision — and I shall worship you till the end. 

Eleanor. Don't say that, Harold — you will meet 
some one else — 

Harold. [Softly, but with conviction.'] No, there 
will never be any one else. [They sit in silence for a few 
moments. The music stops. Harold takes her hand and 
2 



1 8 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

kisses it reverently. They rise and walk silently into the 
ball room. BiLLY Fanshawe, Jack Norgate and 
Sidney Hastings stroll in leisurely at the centre from 
the terrace behind the ball roofn.l 

Jack. [Looking after them.] Harold Westbrook has 
been very attentive to Miss Richmond all evening. 

Billy. He's wasting his time in that campaign. I'll 
back Bobbie Dorr for any amount to win her against the 
field. [Sidney looks after the retreating figures and says 
nothing.] What do you think of it, Sid? 

Sidney. Miss Richmond is altogether too fine a girl 
for Bobbie Dorr — that's my thought. [He offers a cig- 
arette to Jack, who accepts, then to Billy.] Smoke, 
Billy? 

Billy. No thanks! I came out for some fresh air. 
Besides, smoking spoils my appetite. I'm going to make 
another raid on the collation pretty soon. It's excellent 
stuff. I've had a couple of lobster cutlets, some sweet 
breads and two of the nicest soft crabs I ever ate. The 
Dorrs certainly know how to do things. 

Sidney. [Bitterly.] Who wouldn't know how to do 
things with the income of forty-odd millions at one's 
disposal ? 

Billy. Forty-odd millions ! [Whistles.] Forty-odd! 
Why, I'd be satisfied with the odd! [Explaining.] It 
might be seven or nine, you know. [In a lower voice.] 
I say, is that correct? Is it as much as that? 

Jack. I don't believe that old man Dorr gathered so 
much out of his Nevada mines. Of course, he piled up 
a lot of money, but — 

Sidney. I grant you, there were no forty millions in 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 19 

his silver mines, but you are evidently not aware of his 
other interests that paid him enormously though his name 
was never associated with them. You may remember 
that no inventory was filed by the executors — but Simp- 
son, who was chief counsel for the estate, told me a few 
things. 

Billy. [Curiously.] What did he say, Sid? 

Sidney. He mentioned substantial shareholdings in 
the Kimberley diamond fields, in the Swiss lace and em- 
broidery industries, in breakfast foods, railroads, water- 
power companies, automobile factories, tobacco, oil, sugar. 
[Savagely.] I declare that when Simpson got through 
with his catalogue of Dorr's interests I felt convinced that 
there was hardly a human creature in civilization who 
didn't pay tribute in some form to that old octopus. 

Jack. [Looking reflectively at his cigarette.] And 
even the tobacco we are smoking! Rather lucky we know 
the Dorrs, eh? We can get back some of our tribute 
when we gather here as their guests. 

Billy. Bobbie Dorr and his aunt are certainly mak- 
ing the income on the forty-odd millions circulate with 
startling vivacity. I'm willing to help them. Won't 
you boys come in and get another bite of something to eat ? 

Jack. No, thanks. 

Sidney. We'll finish our cigarettes first. 

Billy. Pity you fellows smoke so much — it spoils 
your appetite. Well, I'm off for another lobster cutlet 
and a sweetbread or two — [He goes toward left.] and I 
shall certainly have another of those delicious soft crabs. 
[Exit left.] 

Sidney. I envy a man who can enjoy material exist- 



20 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

ence as Billy does. Why, he's a personified stomach. I 
believe he'd sell his soul for a salad ! 

Jack. [Laughing.] Not much! Billy would make 
a better deal than that. He would demand at least a 
well-selected dinner with appropriate wines — then he 
might feel satisfied that he had made a real bargain. 

Sidney. He's a sterling good fellow just the same — 
I'm glad to number him among my friends. I need a 
cheerful spirit like Billy about me occasionally — I am apt 
to grow bitter when I let my thoughts dwell on such men 
as Bobbie Dorr. 

Jack. I don't see why you should feel that way about 
Bobbie. Of course, he's a child of fortune. With his 
good looks, his wealth, and his fair allotment of brains 
he is bound to play a conspicuous part in our social life. 

Sidney. You know, Jack, I'm fond of growling at 
times and just now I'm not above criticizing a man who 
is virtually my host. There's something I don't like about 
Bobbie Dorr. I don't envy him his great wealth nor his 
social triumphs, but that insufferable air of presumption 
I cannot tolerate. What was his grandfather when he 
started for the West half a century ago? 

Jack. Nobody in particular, I suppose. 

Sidney. Josiah Dorr was a strong, keen-witted Yankee 
with no capital except his good health and his persistent 
optimism. He knocked about for a good many years 
before he made that lucky strike in Nevada. 

Jack. And then he married and lived unhappily ever 
after. 

Sidney. Not at all ! Dorr married while he was still 
poor and with his usual luck chose a wife who was just 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 21 

the right sort for him — a woman of no pretensions, but 
of sound common sense ; and their married life was happy 
enough until the children grew up. 

Jack. Bobbie's father and his aunt Martha? 

Sidney. Exactly. The lamented Josiah, Jr., and 
[Pointing toward the ball roomJ] our charming hostess. 
Simpson told me that young Josiah was for many years a 
thorn m the flesh of his parents. He seemed to progress 
from one escapade to another till he crowned his list of 
indiscretions by marrying a third-rate actress whose pretty 
face was her only recommendation for public attention. 

Jack. I didn't know that Bobbie's mother was an 
actress. 

Sidney. Neither did the public, though she tried hard 
enough to make them think so. Of course, she gave up 
the stage when she became Mrs. Josiah, Jr. She prob- 
ably expected to try her histrionic talent in melting the 
heart of the stern parent — but old Dorr didn't give her a 
chance. He never laid eyes on her! 

Jack. Not even after Bobbie was born? That fre- 
quently makes a difference ! 

Sidney. Old Dorr saw nothing of Bobbie till both 
Josiah, Jr. and his actress-wife were dead. Then Aunt 
Martha took charge of Bobbie and the boy grew up under 
her care. After that nothing was too good for the hope 
of the family. They took him to Lausanne for his educa- 
tion, gave him a thoroughly cosmopolitan training, topped 
off with a few semesters at Heidelberg. He speaks four 
languages — but I don't believe he has been accused of 
enriching the world's store of thought in any of them. 
Behold to-night the finished product, capering in yonder 



22 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

ball room! When he reaches his twenty-fifth birthday a 
few weeks hence he will be the happy possessor of some 
forty millions. 

Jack. A fellow has little excuse for being anything 
but the most decent sort of chap under such conditions. 
Fate has been unusually kind to Bobbie Dorr. 

Sidney. He's no silly offspring of superabundant 
wealth — Bobbie's a capital fellow in many respects, but I 
can't quite overlook his patronizing air, his superb confi- 
dence in the power of his riches. That sort of thing is 
pardonable in a man who has created the wealth, who has 
wrested it from the unyielding earth by the sweat of his 
brow or has won it by the exercise of his superior wit, but 
it takes little genius to inherit another man's money. 

Jack. Here he comes, Sid ; we're in for a quick change 
of subject. [Louder.^ In my opinion, these gardens are 
among the most attractive at Lenox. There's that fine 
row of Lombardy poplars — [Robert Dorr enters from 
the ball room. His evening attire is beyond criticism 
save for the fact that he wears large gold studs in his 
shirt, a heavy gold fob and several conspicuously large 
rings. ^ 

Dorr. Would anybody believe it? A room full of 
charming girls, and you two solemn philosophers out here 
in the dark discussing the Lombardy poplars. Can you 
find nothing better to talk about? 

Sidney. I'm sure we're both booked for every dance 
on the list. It's a breath of fresh air we're after now. 

Dorr. Meanwhile the ladies are commenting upon 
your ungallant disappearance; but you cannot elude them 
long. Billy Fanshawe is bringing out a small party to 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 23 

view the lower gardens. Perhaps such a trip would ap- 
peal to you? 

Jack. It's a lark! I wonder how they ever got Billy 
away from the lobster cutlets and the soft crabs. [Enter 
Billy left, followed by Mrs. Keene, Marian, Ger- 
trude, Margaret and Rose.] 

Billy. [Officiously, from the top step.] All in line 
for a personally-conducted tour around the celebrated 
Dorr gardens. The small and select party will be care- 
fully chaperoned by Mrs. Keene and will be under the 
immediate direction of Mr. William Fanshawe, the well- 
known cicerone, who will explain all points of interest. 

Jack. Bully, old man! You're as impressive as the 
prospectus of a Cook's tour. 

Mrs. Keene. Come on, girls. [They descend to the 
terrace.] Why, Mr. Norgate and Mr. Hastings ! I have 
been wondering what had become of you. 

Sidney. We just stepped out to admire the garden 
and we now crave permission to join your small and select 
party. 

Marian. I think they're horrid in coming out here 
to smoke and then to pretend they were admiring the 
garden. I move that we refuse them permission to join 
our party. All in favor say ' aye.' 

The Girls. [In chorus.] Aye! 

Marian. It is carried. Mr. Hastings and Mr. Nor- 
gate are not permitted to join us. 

Sidney. Pardon me. Miss Winthrop, you are not par- 
liamentary. You put your own motion — you even for- 
got to wait till some one seconded it. 

Marian. What was the use? I knew they were all 
in favor of it. 



24 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

SiDNEY. You ought to be In Congress — they need 
girls like you. But seriously, do you mean to say we may 
not join you? 

Gertrude. Yes, and It serves you right, too ! 

Billy. Hold on! I want to amend that resolution. 
If you girls don't mind, I should like to have Jack Nor- 
gate along. He knows the names of the trees and shrubs 
better than I do. 

Margaret. What! better than the well-known cice- 
rone? 

Billy. I regret to say he does. In fact, I might 
make a mess of It without him. 

Marian. Shall we relent, Mrs. Keene? 

Mrs. Keene. I suppose so, though you are adding to 
my responsibilities as chaperone. [Billy mounts the 
marble railing and detaches one of the Japanese lanterns^] 

Rose. But only Mr. Norgate — not Mr. Hastings. He 
has been too sarcastic. 

Sidney. Ladles, I am overwhelmed with the sense of 
my shortcomings. I spare you the need of further delib- 
eration by admitting that I am unworthy of your com- 
pany. 

Gertrude. How pathetic! I believe he's glad we 
don't want him! 

Margaret. Mr. Dorr, won't you join us? 

Dorr. Thank you — I think I shall try to entertain 
Mr. Hastings during your absence. 

Marian. He ought to be left by himself. 

Dorr. I should hate to leave him In such bad com- 
pany. I want to try moral suasion on him. 

Billy. I hope he survives. [Holds up the lantern.'\ 
Ladies, are you ready? 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 25 

Mrs. Keene. We shall surely need more light. It 
must be very dark at the foot of the garden. 

Billy. One's enough. Besides, if we had more, you 
might get confused and follow some other lantern instead 
of mine. 

Dorr. Don't forget to show the ladies the sun-dial. 

Rose. Oh! a sun-dial! Isn't that romantic! 

Sidney. Especially at this time of night. 

Dorr. It's a quaint old dial that was brought over 
from Italy many years ago. 

Billy. [Whispers to Dorr.] By the way, Bobbie, 
what does that Italian motto on the sun-dial mean? I 
always forget it. 

Dorr. ' Time will reveal all things.' 

Billy. Thanks. That helps me over one difficulty 
at least. Come on, ladies. We're now under way ! [He 
heads the procession off rights followed by Mrs. Keene 
and the girls. The latter speak almost simultaneously as 
they leave. ^ 

Marian. Au revoirl I hope you'll enjoy that moral 
suasion, Mr. Hastings! 

Rose. Don't spare him, Mr. Dorr! 

Gertrude. I hope you will profit by it, Mr. Hastings ! 

Margaret. You are too self-sacrificing, Mr. Dorr! 
[They go off.] 

Sidney. [Laughing.] In such charming creatures as 
these rests most of our happiness in life. I suppose I 
ought to be in a penitent mood — they will all be ready to 
forgive me when I dance with them later on. [He offers 
Dorr a cigarette.] Smoke, Dorr? 

Dorr. [Takes cigarette.] Thanks. [After a pause.] 



26 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

Do you know, Hastings, the women seem to be more or 
less afraid of you? I've noticed it many times. 

Sidney. The sex has evidently little respect for my 
cynical philosophy. It's a pleasure to toss a choice morsel 
of flippancy at them and watch them gasp. 

Dorr. [Reflectively.'] They're a life-long study for 
the keenest man. How splendidly they play their parts! 
Every woman's an actress at heart. [Pointing to the gar- 
den.] There is a group of apparently ingenuous, simple- 
hearted young creatures alive to the pleasure of the moment 
and intent upon enjoying existence — yet I'll wager that in 
each feminine mind there are deep-laid schemes beyond 
your detection or mine. 

Sidney. We men are at a disadvantage because we 
have no adequate weapon to match theirs — and the laws 
of common courtesy render us helpless before their clev- 
erly concealed advances. To make matters worse, each 
fair antagonist plans her campaign in her own individual 
manner — woe to the presumptuous man who tries to gen- 
eralize their methods. No two of them will act precisely 
alike in effecting their ends. 

Dorr. They're all alike in one thing, Hastings. 

Sidney. What's that? 

Dorr. Their respect for wealth! They may be as 
individual as you please; but exhibit your pile of gold — 
the talisman that puts the luxurious gowns upon their 
backs and the gleaming jewels about their persons — and 
you'll find them all ready to purr like a lot of kittens over 
a bowl of warm milk! 

Sidney. See here. Dorr, I thought I was a bit of a 
cynic myself, but I never quite believed that. You don't 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 27 

mean to say that a woman cannot rise above a cringing 

regard for mere material wealth? 

Dorr. I mean just that; no woman — and no man 

either, for that matter. It was long before our time that 

a famous statesman declared that every man had his price 

— and I don't believe he had any intention of ignoring 

woman when he said it. 

Sidney. [Seriously.] Well, if you really feel that way 

about it, I must insist that you are far more In need of 

moral suasion than I am. We two are very different, 

Dorr, in one respect. 
Dorr. Yes ? 
Sidney. If you will pardon my saying so, I flash an 

occasional cynicism upon the ladies that puts them on their 
guard and marks me as a person to be treated with cau- 
tion. You retain their good opinion by an outward show 
of courtesy and deference, yet in your heart you entertain 
sentiments that make it impossible for you to respect a 
single human creature. 

Dorr. We're quite different in another respect, Hast- 
ings. You light upon a thing of this sort and brood over 
it until it spoils your good nature. I take it for granted 
that we are all corruptible and that none can stand the 
absolute tests of integrity, but I don't worry about it. 
This is a good enough world if one has the power to com- 
mand its good things. When it comes to testing the power 
of its talisman [He draws a few gold coins from his pocket 
and jingles them.] I must affirm that those who have tried 
Its virtues are, after all, the best judges of its merits. 
[Sidney tosses away his cigarette with a gesture of dis- 
gust.] What's the matter? 



28 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

SiDNEY. The tobacco was beginning to taste bad; I 
have smoked enough, anyhow. [He rises and gazes clown 
into the garden. DoRR hesitates for a moment, then 
crosses to him.^ 

Dorr. Evidently you find my views very shocking. 
Somehow I expected you to agree with me. 

Sidney. I presume I am like most of my kind — when 
I find a man more cynical than myself I conclude that it 
is time to reform my philosophy of life. [After a pause.] 
Bobbie Dorr, when you say that you believe all men and 
women bow to the power of wealth, do you make no 
reservations — no exceptions ? 

Dorr. I make no exceptions — not even myself! If I 
were a poor man, I should be as corruptible as the rest. 
There are no exceptions ! 

Sidney. [Slowly.] Not even such a girl as — Eleanor 
Richmond ? 

Dorr. [Annoyed.] Why should you mention Miss 
Richmond in this connection? 

Sidney. Pardon me — because I believe that you care 
more about her than you do about most girls. I know 
you admire her; I don't hesitate to say that I regard her 
as the embodiment of all that is lovable in woman. I 
wondered whether you were willing to class her with the 
rest of your mercenary herd — that is all. 

Dorr. [With constraint.] Miss Richmond has always 
enjoyed all the luxuries that wealth can supply. Where 
gold has nothing to offer it cannot be expected to corrupt. 
I should prefer to discuss this question in the abstract 
without considering its bearing upon Miss Richmond, or 
upon any one else, for that matter. [Shrieks are heard 
from the garden. Sidney crosses to the right.] 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 29 

Sidney. Something has happened to Mrs. Keene's 
party ! 

Dorr. [Peering off right.] They are coming up the 
path. Their lantern is extinguished! Billy's personally 
conducted tour seems to have ended in a fizzle. 

Sidney. [Looking towards the left.] Those shrieks 
were evidently heard in the ball room. Miss Richmond 
is coming out. [Eleanor enters with an alarmed look. 
Dorr crosses to her.~\ 

Eleanor. What is it, Bobbie? I thought I heard 
some one crying from the garden. 

Dorr. You undoubtedly did. Billy Fanshawe has 
been trying to guide Mrs. Keene and a party of the girls 
about the place and he has evidently come to grief. We 
shall know in a moment. 

Eleanor. You don't suppose that anything serious 
has happened? 

Sidney. It's hardly likely — Jack Norgate is with 
them. [Confused voices and exclamations off right, draw- 
ing nearer.] 

Dorr. [Looking off.] This way! Watch out for 
that step! [Another shriek and exclamations. The girls 
tumble in hastily in couples. Finally Billy and Jack 
supporting Mrs. Keene between them.] 

Eleanor. Why, what has happened? [The girls 
assist each other in smoothing their ruffled hair and gowns. 
The men escort Mrs. Keene to the right bench, where 
she gasps for breath.] 

Marian. Billy P'anshawe was showing us around the 
garden — and everything was so beautiful! We had just 
reached the sun-dial and Billy raised his lantern to read 



30 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

the curious Italian inscription when a sudden gust of wind 
blew out the light — 

Gertrude. And we were left in the dark — It was 
pitch dark, and the boys had no matches! 

Mrs. Keene. [Dramatically.'] There was no sudden 
gust of wind! Mr. Norgate deliberately blew out the 
light. I never experienced anything so outrageous! 

Jack. My dear Mrs. Keene — I must protest. I was 
simply leaning over Billy's shoulder to see the inscription. 
I was just about to read ofif the Italian words when I 
suddenly found myself In total darkness. 

Sidney. Perhaps your Italian pronunciation put out 
the light. 

Mrs. Keene. [^Severely.'] Sidney Hastings, this is no 
matter for jesting. The worst is yet to come! \_The 
girls look at each other with assumed surprise.] 

Rose. What do you mean? 

Mrs. Keene. I mean that after that light went out 
the behavior of those young men was disgraceful. There 
was hugging and kissing all about me ! 

Margaret. Oh! Mrs. Keene! How can you say such 
a thing? Of course, we all uttered exclamations of sur- 
prise. 

Mrs. Keene. You certainly did — and several of you 
young ladies also said 'stop'! [^The girls look at one 
another.] 

Billy. [^Slowly.] I suppose Jack and I are disgraced 
forever, Mrs. Keene, if you're going to believe that about 
us. I say it's unkind. 

Mrs. Keene. [Witheringly.] There is just one 
thing I'd like to find out. 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 31 

Jack. [Innocently.'] What is it? 

Mrs. Keene. Which of you two young men put his 
arm around my waist — by mistake, of course! [Jack 
and Billy look foolishly at each other. The rest chuckle 
wherever Mrs. Keene cannot see them.] 

Marian. \^To the rescue.] I believe I put my arm 
around your waist — I was very much frightened. 

Mrs. Keene. [With sarcasm.] I dare say you girls 
were so much frightened that you all had your arms about 
each other's waists; and our two gallant escorts — I sup- 
pose they will also insist that they embraced each other for 
mutual protection. 

Dorr. I think you might make some allowance, Mrs. 
Keene. The boys were probably doing their best to keep 
the party close together. 

Mrs. Keene. The party was close enough, I assure 
you. I'm glad it's all over. No more garden trips for 
me in the dark, especially when there are irresponsible 
young men in the party. [She rises and crosses to the 
left.] You girls had better come inside — the dancing will 
go on in a few moments. 

Rose. I'm so sorry about the sun-dial. I scarcely had 
a look at it — I was so anxious to see it. 

Gertrude. We couldn't even read the Italian motto. 
What was it, Billy? 

Billy. The exact Italian words have slipped my mem- 
ory, but they meant — let me see — they meant — 

Eleanor. ' Time will reveal all things.' [Soft waltz 
music begins in the ball room.] 

Mrs. Keene. A very good motto, Mr. Fanshawe. 
Perhaps some day time will reveal how that light went 



32 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

out! Come, girls, the music has begun. \_They enter 
the ball room in groups, DoRR and Eleanor in the rear. 
They detach themselves from the restS\ 

Dorr. [Softly.l The next dance Is mine, Eleanor. 
Shall we not stay out here for a few moments ? 

Eleanor. Yes, If you wish. [He leads her to the 
bench at the rightJ] 

Dorr. I have been eager all evening to have a few 
words with you apart from that restless whirl Inside — 
just we two alone, with our little secret! 

Eleanor. You silly boy ! Be careful you don't betray 
us. [^Looks toward the garden.l^ How delightful It is 
out here in the open ! There is a slight breeze. Bobble, 
do you believe Aunt Sara was right In declaring that the 
boys put out that light? 

Dorr. Certainly. You heard Gertrude Paston say the 
boys had no matches to re-light the lantern. Well, Jack 
was out here smoking with Hastings before he joined your 
aunt's party. 

Eleanor. Of course, Gertrude and Jack are rather 
fond of each other — 

Dorr. I don't blame him for not finding his matches. 

Eleanor. You know I didn't mean that — I don't 
believe Jack would do such a thing ! You wouldn't, Bobbie ? 

Dorr. Not In their bungling fashion, perhaps — but 
there's no telling what a fellow wouldn't do for a few 
golden moments with a girl he cared for. I grant that if 
there's a bevy of girls about, he may possibly hug the 
wrong one — he may even embrace the chaperone, eh? 
[He laughs softly.^ 

Eleanor. Don't say such things. Bobble. You shouldn't 
talk so flippantly. 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 33 

Dorr. It's true, isn't It? In spite of their apparent 
protests, there wasn't one in that party who regretted the 
little episode at the sun-dial — except your aunt, of course, 
and she protested mainly on behalf of outraged social 
decorum. One can hardly help being flippant about such 
women ! 

Eleanor. Bobbie ! 

Dorr. I know — she's your aunt — that's the best I can 
say for her; she doesn't deserve the honor. But after all, 
why should we bother about these people? We can be 
happy out here — with our secret. The time will be short 
enough. Who has the next dance? 

Eleanor. [Looking at the card.] Harold Westbrook. 

Dorr. He won't be long in claiming you. I can't 
help feeling decidedly jealous when I see some one else 
swinging you about the floor. [He takes her hand.] But 
soon I shall make them all envious forever — soon our little 
secret will no longer be our own. Within two months 
my grandfather's fortune passes into my hands, and then — 

Eleanor. Then you will be a very wealthy man, 
Bobbie, but your fortune will carry serious responsibilities 
with it. You can find better things to do than trying to 
make the other boys envious of you. 

Dorr. They must be envious when they learn that you 
are mine, when they see you resplendent as a queen, daz- 
zling from head to foot; they'll no longer sneer at my 
wealth — they will realize what it has achieved for me! 

Eleanor. [Withdrawing her hand.] What your 
wealth has achieved for you! You believe that your 
grandfather's money makes a difference ? 

Dorr, Why not? If I were a poor man, I wouldn't 
3 



34 Monsieur D'Or PRO- 

ask a girl I loved to share my poverty and thus spoil her 
own chance of happiness ; but if I can give my wife every- 
thing that heart can desire, why shouldn't it make a 
difference? 

Eleanor. [^Reflectively.'] There is one great happi- 
ness that is denied to the rich girl — the happiness that 
comes to the self-sacrificing wife who helps her husband 
in his struggle with the world, who stands at his side 
offering aid and encouragement until together they forge 
their way upward to the heights of success — a success that 
both can cherish as a result of mutual effort. 

Dorr. That's all mere story-book sentimentality. Let 
a poor husband and his self-sacrificing wife start out 
together in a life of poverty, and ten to one he's ashamed 
of her when he has made his fortune — if he ever does. 
The newspapers are full of such instances. Don't cast a 
romantic glamor over a state of affairs that would be 
extremely unpleasant in real life. You wouldn't be the 
sort of girl for such a career! 

Eleanor. \_lVith spirit.'] A true woman finds her 
happiness with the man she loves, whether rich or poor; 
she does not find it in a mere riot of gold ! 

Dorr. But the gold helps ! The gold makes life pleasant 
— it gives us what we desire. [She turns away.] Why, 
Eleanor, you're not going to let this spoil things? Re- 
member our secret ! 

Eleanor. Bobbie — [A pause.] We can no longer — 

Dorr. You're not going to throw me over for a mere 
difference of opinion? We have our lives before us and 
everything to live for — 

Eleanor. Yes, we have everything — except spiritual 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 35 

kinship. I'm sorry, Bobbie — heartily sorry, but I'm also 
thankful I found that out in time. [The music ceases.'\ 

Dorr. The dance is over! Westbrook will be here 
in a moment to claim you. Will you let it end in this 
way? 

Eleanor. \Rising.'\ I cannot hope that you will 
understand how distressed I am, but I want to say just 
one thing, Bobbie — to-night seems to mark a turning point 
in our lives. I trust it is for the best. Whatever happens 
hereafter, I want you to remember the motto on your old 
Italian sun-dial — 

Dorr. [Mechanically^ ' Time will reveal all things.' 

Eleanor. Yes. We shall both grow older and per- 
haps we shall see with a clearer vision than now. I shall 
not forget — [Harold enters hastily from the ball room.] 

Harold. Ah, Miss Richmond, you are here. The next 
dance is mine, I believe? 

Eleanor. [Taking his arm.] Yes, Mr. Westbrook. 
Are you coming in, Bobbie? 

Dorr. Not now. [As they pass up the steps left, he 
deliberately lights a cigarette.] ' Time will reveal all 
things.' — I hope it will; then we'll see if I'm not right. 
[Taking a few gold coins from his pocket he tosses them in 
his palm.] Now, my golden friends, you, at least, will 
be true to me! I shall rely upon you to show her — her 
and all the rest of them your wonderful power! [He 
looks toward the ball room as the dance-music resumes and 
the curtain descends.] 



SCENE I 

[The office of Lehmann Freres in their factory at St. 
Gallen. It is furnished in a manner appropriate to a 
prosperous business concern. In the centre is a large rec- 
tangular table with several chairs. At the left is a low 
flat desk with papers j telephone and chair. Close to the 
wall behind the desk is a telephone switchboard for com- 
municating with various parts of the works. At the right 
there is a modern office-desk, richly furnished, with a hat- 
rack nearby. In the centre back is a large leather covered 
davenport above which hangs a portrait of the late M. 
Lehmann senior, the father of Lehmann Freres and the 
honored founder of the establishment. Elsewhere on the 
walls hang framed views of the plant and other appro- 
priate pictures. There are exits right and left to inner 
offices, likewise two exits in the rear, the right exit leading 
to the street and provided with a glass-door, the left exit 
leading to the shops. Whenever the left exit is opened 
the heavy whirr of niachinery is heard within. As the 
curtain rises, Bertine is seen at the flat desk, left, sign- 
ing papers. A few moments later the telephone bell rings. 
Bertine answers the telephone at his desk.~\ 

Bertine. Hello! ... Yes . . . M. Raoul Leh- 
mann is out at present. . . . This is his secretary, M. Ber- 
tine. . . . Yes. . . . He should be here shortly. . . . No. 
. . . M. Frederic Lehmann has an important conference 
on hand in this office at three o'clock. . . . No. . . . Im- 
possible ! . . . No ! . . . No ! ! . . . Very well. . . . Good-by. 

36 



I Monsieur D'Or 37 

[He hangs up the receiver and resumes work at his papers, 
Raoul Lehmann enters at the rear right entrance with 
hat, cane and gloves, which he places on the rack near his 
desk at the right.} 

Bertine. Good afternoon, M. Lehmann. I have just 
had a telephone call from a reporter of Le Journal asking 
for an Interview with you or your brother. 

Raoul. Ah ! So the newspapers have learned of our 
trouble with our operatives. I presume they wish to send 
a representative to the conference? 

Bertine. Yes. I took the liberty of informing the 
reporter that It was impossible. 

Raoul. Very good ! Has my brother returned from 
luncheon? 

Bertine. Not yet, sir. [He hands a telegram to 
Raoul.] This telegram arrived while you were out. 

Raoul. [Opens it and reads.] * If possible, kindly 
postpone conference till five o'clock. I wish to be present 
at the meeting. Signed, D'Or.' 
Bertine. M. D'Or! 

Raoul. As he chooses to call himself — the grandson 
of the late Joslah Dorr, whose money coupled with the 
brains of my honored father [Pointing to the portrait.] 
made this great plant possible. Let me see — the Dorr 
estate holds about one-third of the shares, does it not? 

Bertine. Somewhat more. Within the last few months 
they have Increased their holdings to nearly forty per cent. 
Raoul. In any event, it is enough to command respect 
for such a request as this. [Frederic Lehmann enters 
at the rear right entrance with hat and gloves.] Ah! 
Frederic. I have just received this communication from 
M. D'Or. [He hands the telegram to Frederic] 



38 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Frederic. [Reads.'\ So! The mysterious grandson 
and heir! 

Raoul. We must accede to the request. He may 
make trouble otherwise — we have enough to worry about 
without antagonizing our shareholders. 

Frederic. By all means! If he is anything like his 
grandfather, he will strengthen our position very much. 
Old Josiah always took care that he got his share of the 
spoils — and usually a little besides! 

Raoul. [To Bertine.] Kindly have M. Albert sent 
here at once. He heads the delegation, I believe? 

Bertine. Yes. [He goes to the house-telephone and 
adjusts the plug.] Hello. . . . Yes. . . . Ask M. Albert 
to come to the office. . . . Yes. . . . That's all. 

Frederic. [Looking at the telegram.'] So the grand- 
son of old Mr. Dorr blossoms into M. D'Or! 

Raoul. Some rogue of a genealogist probably con- 
vinced him that the change of name could be defended. 
The rich American has a weakness for that sort of thing. 
The manufacture of genealogies is a more profitable indus- 
try than that of laces, Frederic ! 

Frederic. Very likely; but it demands an imagina- 
tion — an inventive faculty that most of us do not possess. 
[Albert enters at the rear, left. He bows respectfully 
to the Lehmanns.] 

Raoul. M. Albert, our conference this afternoon will 
be postponed until five o'clock. M. D'Or, who is one of 
our American shareholders, wishes to attend the meeting, 
so we are making this change to accommodate him. 

Albert. Very well, M. Lehmann. Shall I inform 
my associates? 

Raoul. Yes. I believe there are five of you? 



I Monsieur D'Or 39 

Albert. Two of the men besides myself and two of 
the women. 

Raoul. You may return to your work, M. Albert. 
[Albert bows himself out at the left rear entrance.^ 

Frederic. \_Who has been examining a paper at the 
table.'] M. Bertlne, will you look over this schedule and 
compare it with the duplicate on file in my office? 

Bertine. [Taking the paper.] Very well, M. Leh- 
mann. [^He bows low and goes out at the side door, left.] 

Frederic. Bah ! What a life it must be to cringe and 
bow continually to one's superiors. Our M. Albert from 
the shops is scarcely more servile than our M. Bertine in 
his attitude towards us. 

Raoul. True enough; but let M. Albert show lack 
of respect to so influential a man as M. Bertine and he 
would soon feel the consequences. Even the secretary of 
Lehmann Freres is a great man in the eyes of his inferiors. 
[He goes to his desk.] It's a queer world, Frederic, but 
there's considerable satisfaction to be gained from being 
in the front ranks. 

Frederic. Yes — to issue orders, not to take them; to 
command men, not to obey them. [Looks at the portrait.] 
What a debt we owe, Raoul, to the genius of our dear 
father! 

Raoul. [Drily, at the desk, without looking around.] 
And to the money of old Josiah Dorr! 

Frederic. Certainly — but tell me, could anything be 
more useless, in fact more harmful than such money unless 
administered with discretion and foresight? 

Raoul. By the way, Frederic, M. Bertine has just 
informed me that the Dorr interest is now forty per cent. 



40 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

of our capital. Have you been keeping track of the stock- 
transfers ? 

Frederic. You signed the certificates as well as I. 

Raoul. True; they were all for small amounts, but 
It now occurs to me there were a great many of them. I 
often regret that we ever reduced our holdings below an 
actual majority of the stock. Of course, you had to fur- 
nish your villa on the Axenstrasse — 

Frederic. And you needed money to keep your racing- 
stables stocked with thoroughbreds. You know very well, 
Raoul, that you disposed of more shares than I did. 

Raoul. We have both been careless In the matter. 
Our joint holdings are about forty-five per cent., which Is 
but a little more than the Dorr estate now holds. I 
know, the rest Is scattered In small lots, but I get appre- 
hensive at times. [He goes over to Frederic] Frederic, 
we have a serious duty before us — we must regain a major- 
ity Interest of the stock. 

Frederic. You are right. We cannot afford to take 
chances on losing control of the business. I shall Increase 
the mortgage on my villa; you can probably spare a few 
of your horses? 

Raoul. Yes. We must also devise other means of 
raising money. One thing Is certain — we cannot grant the 
demand of our workpeople for higher wages. [He picks 
up the petition from Bertine's desk and scans f/.] I 
note that they ask for a uniform advance of ten per cent, 
in all departments. 

Frederic. They might as well ask for one hundred 
and ten per cent. [Laughing.] You and I agree on that 
subject, at least — and M. D'Or is not likely to Intercede 



I Monsieur D'Or 41 

for them if he is as fond of fat dividends as his respected 
grandfather used to be! 

Raoul. We need not fear M. D'Or. It is probably- 
idle curiosity that brings him here. [Voices are heard in 
the room, left. Bertine enters excitedly, followed by 
D'Or, who is dressed in fine white flannelsj with gold- 
headed cane, gold band on straw hat, several conspicuous 
gold rings and a heavy watch fob.^ 

Bertine. [Spluttering.] M. D'Or! M. Raoul Leh- 
mann, M. Frederic Lehmann ! [He bows himself out.] 

D'Or. [With familiarity.] Ah, gentlemen, so I stand 
in the presence of Lehmann Freres. [They shake hands.] 
You evidently expected me to enter by your front door 
[Points back, right.] but I stole a march on you. I have 
been inspecting the factory for the past two hours. 

Raoul. [Surprised.] Inspecting the factory! 

D'Or. I have been all over the plant — it is truly a 
model establishment. I am pleased to be associated in 
the control of such an admirable hive of industry. You 
vv^ill pardon my unconventional v^ay of learning these 
things, but I did not w^ish to be bored by an official and 
perfunctory inspection starting from the office. I there- 
fore took matters into my own hands — and starting at the 
bottom, I have worked my way to the intellectual summit 
of the structure. [He looks about him.] 

Frederic. It is a pleasure to know that we stood this 
unusual test so well, M. D'Or — but, after all, the house 
of Lehmann Freres has nothing to conceal — 

D'Or. Evidently not. Your product is of the highest 
grade and commands the best markets; your people work 
under the most hygienic conditions. They are a busy mul- 



42 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

titude — those hundreds of men and women in the shops. 
By the way, gentlemen, I observed some very pretty girls 
among them — but I suppose you are already familiar with 
that fact. 

Raoul. [Coldly.] Pardon me, M. D'Or — my brother 
and I are hardly in a position to admire the personal 
charms of our employees. We are both married men. 

D'Or. Ah! I see — you may not talk freely of such 
things. How promptly you seem to suspect that I was 
about to intimate something quite shocking. Charming 
girls, just the same, even if they do not bask in the sun- 
shine of your favor. I became interested in one of the 
young women in your lace department and stopped for a 
few moments to question her about her work — a Mile. 
Adrienne — Adrienne — [He pulls out a small memorandum 
book.'] 

Frederic. Mile. Courteaux. 

D'Or. Thank you — that was the name. I was amazed 
at her dexterity and the rapidity with which she worked. 
It was fascinating; yet she told me that she receives only 
thirty-five francs a week. 

Raoul. Did she say only thirty-five francs? She is 
one of our most skilful and best-paid operatives. 

D'Or. No — I supplied the only/ It is an outrage — 
that attractive young figure bending over the machine, 
those well-shaped, nimble fingers constantly at work — and 
a miserable five and thirty francs at the end of the week! 
No wonder your workers are complaining. 

Frederic. But, M. D'Or, we pay the same wages as 
all the rest. There must be a profit in the business — a 
fair return for the large capital invested. 



I Monsieur D'Or 43 

D'Or. I wish above all things to act intelligently 
when we meet their delegation this afternoon — that is why 
I chose my own way of becoming acquainted with the 
establishment. Have your people formulated their griev- 



ances 



Frederic. [Taking the document from Bertine's 
desk.] Yes, here is their petition addressed to us. We 
did not wish to be subjected to their oratory at the con- 
ference, so we insisted upon a preliminary bill of complaint. 
D'Or. [Scanning the sheets,] H'm — in view of the 
prosperous times — plant working to the limit of its capac- 
ity — unprecedented business — increased rents — higher cost 
of living — we request a general increase of ten per cent. 
Why, surely, it is very little that they ask? 

Raoul. Do you realize what an effect it will have 
upon our dividends? 

Frederic. Are not our shareholders entitled to first 
consideration ? 

D'Or. [Still glancing at the petition and not heeding 
their remarks.] ' Respectfully submitted, Messrs. Albert, 
Lorraine, Fremiet; Miles. Celeste Bergere, Adrienne 
Courteaux '—well, I declare, my charming friend of the 
lace-machine is to be one of your delegation ! How soon 
do we meet them ? 

Raoul. I think we had better agree upon some line 
of action before we invite the delegation to the office. We 
should at least present a united front. 

D'Or. How do you usually act in such an industrial 
crisis as this? 

Raoul. Sometimes we find it necessary to make a par- 
tial concession— they are usually crafty enough to ask for 



44 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

twice what they expect to get. Occasionally we can win 
over a delegation by assuring them of an individual raise 
in wages and thus send them back to their associates with 
a discouraging report. 

Frederic. We dare not tamper with the present dele- 
gation — they would be difficult to handle. Their leader, 
Albert, is a quiet fellow, but the soul of honor. [Looks 
over the petition.l Lorraine is an old man, generally 
esteemed and beloved by his associates; Fremiet Is a rascally 
socialist, a constant breeder of trouble. [He drops the 
petition.l 

D'Or. [Picking up the petition,'] And the girls, Miles. 
Celeste and Adrienne — what lovely names they have! 

Frederic. We never worry about the women In such 
delegations. They are easily managed. It is strange, 
Raoul, that just those two should have been chosen. You 
should know, M. D'Or, that Adrienne Courteaux Is 
a good, highly respected girl, who Is supporting her wid- 
owed mother. As for Mile. Bergere — what shall I say, 
Raoul? 

Raoul. [With sarcasm.'] I hardly know how she will 
appeal to M. D'Or's fancy. She lacks exactly those 
virtues and qualities that strike us so favorably In Mile. 
Courteaux. 

D'Or. Well, gentlemen, I see that you know some- 
thing after all about the young women of your establish- 
ment, in spite of the fact that you are both married men 
— but, seriously, how do you propose to answer their 
request for an advance? 

Raoul. There Is but one answer If we are not to 
reduce our dividends — the request must be refused. 



I Monsieur D'Or 45 

D'Or. And the admirable Mile. Courteaux, support- 
ing a widowed mother, will continue to get only thirty- 
five francs a week? 

Frederic. Her case seems to distress you most. Do 
you realize that even with the increase she would be earn- 
ing less than forty francs? 

D'Or. True — I hadn't thought that it meant so little 
— so contemptibly little. Gentlemen, I propose that we 
grant the ten per cent, increase and that in such deserving 
cases as Mile. Courteaux's we give an additional incre- 
ment. 

Raoul. [Leaping to his feet.'] M. D'Or, pardon me 
— but what you propose is impossible! Lehmann Freres 
are now paying the maximum wage-scale. We cannot 
increase wages further without defying an established eco- 
nomic law. 

D'Or. M. Lehmann, the economic law has tyrannized 
over us long enough — it must be taught a wholesome 
respect for the power of gold. Of what value is wealth 
if it cannot crush so immaterial a thing as an economic 
law? 

Raoul. If you have no regard for your own interests, 
you should at least respect the investment of the other 
shareholders. 

D'Or. Who are the other shareholders? 

Raoul. You hold some forty per cent, from your 
grandfather's estate together with recent additions; my 
brother and I jointly own — \_A pause.] about half of the 
stock or a little over. That leaves about six or eight per 
cent, in small scattered holdings. [Frederic looks anx- 
iously at D'Or.] 



46 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. [fVith a sinister expression, drawing a bundle 
of certificates from his pocket.~\ M. Lehmann, you and 
your brother own forty-five per cent, or less! The so- 
called scattered holdings are not six or eight per cent. — 
here are at least fifteen per cent. — you will observe that 
each certificate is endorsed in my favor. 

Frederic. [Leaping up.] Then you actually own a 
majority of the stock? [Raoul buries his face in his 
hands and groans.^ 

D'Or. Yes. The Blausteins at Paris have been quietly 
obtaining this little block of Lehmann Freres for me. 
Gentlemen, I was surprised to learn that you had per- 
mitted the control to escape you. 

Raoul. [Walking excitedly.] Why should the dele- 
gation consult with us, Frederic? M. D'Or now domi- 
nates the situation — why prolong the agony? 

D'Or. You should not be so bitter, M. Lehmann, 
because the sins of your own negligence have found you 
out. Your lie a moment ago is pardonable. I recognize 
your talents — you have maintained and advanced a great 
industry established by your father. I hope you will con- 
tinue to direct the interests of Lehmann Freres. I simply 
wish to act as spokesman in the conference with your dele- 
gation — I may say our delegation of workers. 

Raoul. Why ask of us a favor that we have no power 
to withhold ? Complete your triumph ! We are in your 
hands ! [D'Or glances for a moment at the angry Raoul, 
then turns to Frederic] 

D'Or. Kindly summon the committee! 

Frederic. [Rings. Bertine enters, left.] M. Bertine, 
please ask the delegation to come at once. [Bertine goes 



I Monsieur D'Or 47 

out, rear left. Frederic crosses over to Raoul, who 
seems crushed and helpless. He tries to encourage Raoul.] 

D'Or. [Looking at portrait, after a pause.] Your 
father's portrait, I presume? 

Raoul. Thank Heaven, he did not live to see this day! 

D'Or. [Drily.] If he had lived there v^^ould have 
been no such day — at least, it would not have disturbed 
his equanimity. 

Frederic. [Comforting Raoul.] Do not reply, Raoul. 
Let us at least preserve appearances before our employees. 
[Enter, rear left, Bertine, followed by Albert, then 
Celeste and Adrienne^ finally Lorraine and Fremiet. 
Throughout this scene Raoul labors under suppressed 
excitement ; Frederic is more composed.] 

Frederic. M. D'Or, this is the delegation of our 
workpeople who have arranged for to-day's conference. 
May I say to the committee that we are honored in having 
with us M. D'Or, who has a large interest in Lehmann 
Freres and wishes to participate in our deliberation. 

D'Or. I should like to meet the delegates individually. 

Frederic. [Indicating.] M. Albert is their leader. 

D'Or. [Shaking hands.] M. Albert, I am glad to 
grasp the hand of a man who has the mark of leadership 
in his personality. [Pointing to the petition.] Is this peti- 
tion your work ? 

Albert. [Modestly.^ Only partly, monsieur. The 
committee worked on it as a body. 

D'Or. It is a masterful summary. I congratulate 
you ! [Albert bows with a look of gratification and steps 
aside.] 

Frederic. [Introducing Lorraine.] Our oldest worker, 
M. Lorraine. 



48 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. The oldest worker ! Most Interesting! How 
long have you been associated with the company? 

Lorraine. I was twenty when the honored father 
{Points to the portrait.'] of Messrs. Lehmann first engaged 
me — and I've been here ever since. I have two sons and 
five grandsons here now. I am seventy-three years old. 

D'Or. [Astonished.'] Fifty-three years of faithful ser- 
vice — and you are still among the workers! How is it 
that you have not risen to prosperity in that time? 

Lorraine. [Without bitterness.] We cannot all hope 
to reach the top. Some of us have not the brains — and 
others have not the chance. I have always been a sober 
and industrious man, but the pay is not large. I do not 
complain, however — I have always been treated well. 

D'Or. It is unjust — rankly unjust! [He turns to 
Fremiet.] And our third delegate? 

Frederic. [Curtly.] M. Fremiet. 

D'Or. Ah ! I recall — the anarchist ! 

Fremiet. Pardon me, I am a socialist. 

D'Or. Is there any difference? [Fremiet's look is 
contemptuous.] I am quite unfamiliar with your nice 
distinctions of political or economic creed. I dare say you 
regard yourself as a very badly used person ? 

Fremiet. Yes. Every worker is badly used. He does 
not get his share of the wealth that he creates by the sweat 
of his brow. 

D'Or. I suppose you believe that all men are created 
equal ? 

Fremiet. They are not — they should be. 

D'Or. Ah! So you actually have a grudge against 
Nature in the first instance. How unhappy you must be ! 



I Monsieur D'Or 49 

At any rate you believe in social equality. Let me test 
your faith. You are a workman, laboring faithfully 
week after week at the plant of Lehmann Freres; I am a 
gentleman of leisure, living Idly on an Inherited mcome. 
Do you believe that any social upheaval can ever make me 

your equal? 

Fremiet. [Misunderstanding.] I regard myself as 
any man's equal, poor and crushed as I am. It Is a cruel 
social tyranny that keeps us down. 

D'Or. Pardon me, my friend— you did not listen care- 
fully. I asked whether you believed that any social up- 
heaval could make me your equal. 

Fremiet. You are mocking me, M. D'Or. In your 
heart you know that you are my superior— my superior In 
everything that Is most desirable In this world. You live 
your life according to the dictates of your own fancy, you 
call no man master, the pleasures of the world are at your 
beck. Why should you seek to torture me and these others 

on the rack? 

D'Or. [Turning to the Lehmanns.] Really, I had no 
Idea that my visit was to be so Interesting ! [ To Fremiet.] 
M. Fremiet, you are something better than a socialist— 
you are a poet. Instead of working at the lace-machlnes 
you should capitalize your thoughts. You would soon 
attract sufficient attention to make you rich and famous— 
and Incidentally to drive every vestige of socialism out of 
your system. [Fremiet bows with evident pleasure.] 

Frederic. [Introducing Celeste.] Mile. Bergere. 

Celeste. [With a curtsy, archly.] Celeste Bergere. 

D'Or. [Bowing.] Mademoiselle, I am particularly 



4 



50 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

interested in the welfare of the young women in our work- 
rooms. In which department are you? 

Celeste. I assist in sorting and packing embroideries. 

D'Or. And what is your pay for this service? 

Celeste. Twenty francs a week. 

D'Or. Twenty francs! How can one live on such 
wages ? 

Celeste. [With a deliberate look at the Lehmanns.] 
One cannot — and very few make the effort. [The Leh- 
manns are astounded and annoyed at her audacity; the 
men of the delegation seem uneasy; Adrienne draws away 
from Celeste.] 

D'Or. [With sympathy. '\ Pardon me for asking that 
question. I might have anticipated the answer. Of course, 
a girl living at home with her family is under less expense — 

Fremiet. [Starting forward.] How about the rest? 
It means ruin for the rest! 

Frederic. [Waving Fremiet back and introducing 
Adrienne.] I believe you have met Mile. Courteaux. 

D'Or. [Graciously.] Yes, I met Mile. Courteaux in 
the lace department. Your pay is thirty-five francs a week 
— it is inadequate, I know. 

Adrienne. It would not be so bad if it were not for 
the doctor and for the medicines that my mother needs. 

D'Or. You are your mother's sole support? 

Adrienne. Yes. [T)^Or looks at her in mingled admi- 
ration and pity.] 

Frederic. Mile. Courteaux receives high pay as the 
schedule is arranged. There are hundreds who receive 
far less. 

D'Or. Heaven help the hundreds — and the thousands 



I Monsieur D'Or 51 

of their kind elsewhere. [ To Adrienne.] Are you happy 
at your work? 

Adrienne. Yes; it is not difficult — one soon acquires 
the necessary skill. 

D'Or. But you are surely looking forward to some- 
thing better — something less monotonous than a lace- 
machine ! 

Albert. I hope some day to make Mile. Courteaux 
my wife. 

D'Or. Some day? 

Albert. Yes. As soon as my pay is sufficient to keep 
us both. 

D'Or. [Looks at Albert, then Adrienne.] This, 
too! Another tyranny of our industrial system ! [Turns 
to Frederic] Can Lehmann Freres afford to be acces- 
sories to such hardships? 

Frederic. [Coldly.'] It is distressing, of course — but 
we surely cannot undertake to reform society and bring 
about universal happiness. 

Raoul. [Stepping forward.'] May I remind M. D'Or 
that we have summoned this delegation to discuss the 
wage-scale? We can hardly reach any conclusion by 
considering the individual cases before us. 

D'Or. [With suppressed anger.] Thank you for re- 
minding me, M. Lehmann. I have made the mistake of 
regarding our delegation as a group of human beings. 
[He seats himself between the Lehmanns.] Let us 
settle down to business. I take it for granted we are all 
familiar with the contents of this petition — ^^it sums up the 
situation aptly — unless our friend Fremiet wishes to make 
a speech ? 



52 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Fremiet. I have no speech to make, M. D'Or. I 
have been listening attentively to you — you are a fair- 
minded man. I am perfectly willing to leave our griev- 
ances in your hands. [D'Or is visibly flattered.^ 

D'Or. Very well. [To Raoul.] Now, M. Leh- 
mann, you are the head of this great establishment — for 
years you have directed it ably and profitably. What do 
you suggest ? 

Raoul. [Looking keenly at D'Or.] Are you asking 
for my opinion ? 

D'Or. Certainly. Can we do anything for our people ? 

Raoul. [Speaking cautiously.~\ Perhaps what I say 
may appear unsympathetic — but I have always proceeded 
on the assumption that the shareholders deserve first con- 
sideration in the distribution of earnings. Our relation 
with our workers is in the nature of a personal contract — 
we offer a certain wage and they are free to refuse it and 
stay out of our employ if they so desire. 

D'Or. That is sufficiently blunt to be understood by 
any one — and it's also quite orthodox, I believe; but let 
us drop abstractions. Can we afford the requested in- 
crease in wages? 

Raoul. [Feeling his way.} I wish to do the fair 
thing — but before all else I must advise the safe course. 
Our reports show clearly that a ten per cent, increase in 
all departments would ruin the concern. Perhaps we 
might compromise on a five per cent, advance and try it 
for — say six months, without committing ourselves to con- 
tinue it beyond that term unless our earnings justify — 

D'Or. [hnpatiently.'] Nonsense, M. Lehmann; you 
would offer Mile. Bergere an extra franc per week, the 



I Monsieur D'Or 53 

others perhaps two francs or less— do you imagine that 
you have solved the problem? I propose that we try the 
ten per cent, increase and give it a fair test. 

Celeste. [Eagerly.] Oh! M. D'Or, you are our 
good angel! 

D'Or. [Flattered.'] What is more, I propose to learn 
the circumstances of every girl who works in this plant, 
and wherever conditions warrant it, I shall recommend 
an increase of twenty per cent, or even more — 

Frederic. It is impossible ! We shall face bankruptcy ! 

D'Or. We might try it, at any rate. 

Raoul. [Fiercely.] Your plan cannot succeed. 

D'Or. [Ominously.] None the less I ask you— shall 

we try it ? 

Raoul. [After a struggle.] Yes, if you insist ! [The 

luorkers are astounded.] 

D'Or. [To Frederic, blandly.] Do you also agree? 

Frederic. Yes. Do whatever you think best ! 

D'Or. [To the delegation.] Your petition is favor- 
ably considered and you may report to your associates that 
an increase of ten per cent, in all wages goes into effect 
immediately. [The delegates are delighted; D'Or pays 
no attention to the rest, but gazes at Adrienne.] 

Albert. [Kissing D'Or's hand.] You are a friend of 
humanity, M. D'Or! 

Lorraine. [With choking voice.] I speak for my 
sons and grandsons when I say, ' Heaven bless you ! ' You 
have brought joy into our lives. 

Fremiet. If all employers were like you, monsieur, I 
would stay away from our socialistic meetings. 



54 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Celeste. [Boldly.] M. D'Or, Adrlenne and I also 
wish to thank you, do we not? [Adrienne stands with 
bowed head beside her.] You have made us so happy! 
You will be a hero henceforth in the eyes of us all. [She 
turns to Adrienne, expecting her to say something.] 

D'Or. And what do you say. Mile. Courteaux? 
[Adrienne raises her head and looks fixedly at D'Or for 
several moments of tense silence; then with a sob she 
bursts into tears.] 

Albert. [Hastening to her.] The truest tribute of 
all, M. D'Or! The tribute of tears! 

Raoul. [Curtly.] The conference being over, you 
may return to your work. [The delegates pass out at the 
rear left.] M. Bertine, you will at once post a notice in 
the shops announcing the increase in wages. [Bertine 
goes off, left. Raoul's demeanor changes completely.] 
M. D'Or, in my whole life I have never experienced such 
a sense of humiliation, of utter degradation as in the last 
half hour. What a terrible man you are! How could 
you trample us so ruthlessly under foot — and before our 
workpeople — treating us like a pair of impotent puppets! 

D'Or. [Coolly.] I like to feel the power of my wealth. 
You have had the same experience in dealing with your 
workers. 

Raoul. Why don't you exercise your power over 
them? It is easier and cheaper. 

D'Or. They know the power of wealth — they need 
no further demonstration. The war of wealth against 
wealth is more to my taste at present. Besides, gentle- 
men, it is cleaner sport. 

Frederic. Don't you realize that as the majority stock- 
holder you must pay the lion's share of the bill ? 



I Monsieur D'Or 55 

D'Or. Yes, but it's worth whatever it costs to see 
such a precious pair as you brought to terms. I am sat- 
isfied with the reward that my generosity will bring. By 
nightfall I shall be heralded through the town as the kind 
friend of the downtrodden workers — 

Raoul. [Bitterly.] And Lehmann Freres will lose 
thirty to forty thousand francs a year! 

D'Or. Of which nearly one half will fall upon you 
and your brother. 

Raoul. You forget, M. D'Or — there is still one re- 
source. It would not be difficult to prove in any court 
of law that you are an irresponsible person. When a 
man, in order to gratify a passing whim, seeks to disturb 
the economic balance — 

D'Or. [With a sneer.'] Economic balance ! I like that 
phrase ! On the one hand, our wealth, securely entrenched 
with all its vast unlimited influence; on the other, the 
hands and brains of the numerous wretches whom we call 
our employees. Economic balance, indeed! 

Frederic. M. D'Or, we shall not be ruined without 
a struggle. This industry has been fostered through two 
generations of growth and development. We take pride 
in it — 

D'Or. Let us stop quarreling, gentlemen — I have 
heard enough in this strain. At what figure do you esti- 
mate your holdings in Lehmann Freres? 

Raoul. [Interrupting Frederic] This morning our 
joint holdings were worth six hundred thousand francs — 
Heaven knows what they are worth now, with you in the 
saddle! 

D'Or. [Deliberately.] Then I presume the easiest 



56 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

way for me to restore peace and to avoid a commission in 
lunacy would be to pay you — let us say eight hundred 
thousand francs? 

Raoul. What do you mean ? To buy us out? 

D'Or. [^Toying with the petition.'] Yes — for eight 
hundred thousand francs. 

Frederic. On what terms? 

D'Or. a sight draft on the Blausteins at Paris. \^A 
frantic discussion between the brothers, which evokes a 
smile from D'Or.] 

Raoul. [Finally.'] We accept your offer! 

D'Or. Are you no longer afraid that I am a desperate 
madman? Are you sure that a man who disturbs the 
economic balance can legally transact business? Would 
not the sale of your holdings at such an outrageous over- 
valuation be liable to attack in your courts? 

Raoul. [^Suavely.] Not unless you or your friends 
should proceed. You made the offer yourself — we are not 
likely to test your sanity after the draft is honored. 

D'Or. Gentlemen, I see you are not without a sense 
of humor. Kindly draw up a formal agreement — the 
actual transfer of the property can be effected to-morrow. 
[Raoul prepares an agreement.] You can make imme- 
diate delivery, I presume? 

Frederic. Yes. There is nothing to prevent you from 
taking absolute possession of the entire establishment at 
once. You will henceforth be able to follow the dictates 
of your own fancy in administering the affairs of the com- 
pany. Would it be an impertinence to wish you success 
in your venture? 

D'Or. I fear it would be, in the face of your convic- 
tion that I am doomed to inevitable failure. 



I Monsieur D^Or S7 

Frederic. You are trying to do the impossible! 

D'Or. The impossible is the only thing worth doing 
nowadays. [Raoul shows the agreement to Frederic] 

Frederic. [Handing it to D'Or.] Very good! 

D'Or. [Returning it to Raoul.] Quite proper — and 
to the point. [Raoul rings for Bertine, who enters, 
left.] 

Raoul. M. Bertine, kindly let us have three copies 
of this agreement at once. [Bertine takes the paper, 
glances at its contents and utters an involuntary cryJ\ 

Raoul. [Severely.^ Have you forgotten yourself ? 

Bertine. [Confused.~\ I — I beg your pardon, gentle- 
men. [He glances from one to another, looks at D'Or as 
at an apparition and goes out aiukivardlyJ] 

D'Or. [Sy?npathetically.'\ Poor fellow! How hard 
he takes it! Gentlemen, I confess that I looked for a 
possible word of sentiment from you — a desire to remain 
identified with the great business that your father had 
established and had developed to its present importance. I 
was even prepared to bid higher in case my first offer was 
not accepted — [The brothers look at him in mingled anger 
and covetousness.l but the sum seems to have satisfied your 
cupidity. However, I have an appeal to make. I do not 
wish to undertake the administration of this great industry 
— I know nothing about it. Do you care to remain here 
in your present executive capacity? I know we can agree 
upon terms. 

Raoul. Events have crowded each other so quickly 
that neither of us has any plans for the future. We shall 
be willing to stay — for a time at least, eh, Frederic? 

Frederic. Assuredly. I, for one, am interested to 



58 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

know how M. D'Or's experiment Is going to work out. 
Such audacity affords an enlightening spectacle to the busi- 
ness man of normal training. 

D'Or. Thank you, gentlemen, I shall appreciate your 
co-operation. Such a business requires a certain amount 
of personal shrewdness and finesse with which you are evi- 
dently well equipped. [Bertine enters with the papers, 
hands them to Raoul and goes off, left. Raoul signs 
each copy, hands them to Frederic, the latter signs and 
passes them to D'Or.] 

D'Or. [Signing the last copy.'] There we are! [^Each 
takes a copy.] That settles the formal transfer — the details 
can go over till to-morrow. Is there anything further, 
gentlemen ? 

Raoul. [So?newhat excited, puts his hand to his brow.] 
I — I do not feel altogether well. The excitement of the 
past hour is playing havoc with my brain! I had better 
go home — 

Frederic. My dear Raoul — you are not ill, I hope? 

Raoul. You had better take me home. [They get 
their hats and gloves.] M. D'Or, I wonder whether you 
are not a demon — or an apparition of some evil dream ! 

D'Or. Have no fear, M. Lehmann. You will find 
my draft on the Blausteins a very reliable piece of paper — 
In exchange for which I am to receive [Throwing out his 
arms.] all this! 

Raoul. [In agony.] Ah! this Is terrible! [He goes 
out, rear right, followed by Frederic. D'Or looks after 
them with a laugh, jingles the gold in his pocket and rings 
for Bertine who enters, left. As it is growing dark, 
Bertine turns on the electric lamp on the table.] 

D'Or. M. Bertine, at what time does work cease? 



I Monsieur D'Or 59 

Bertine. [Consults his watch,'] In twenty minutes, 
monsieur. 

D'Or. Will you kindly ask Mile. Courteaux to come 
to the office before she leaves ? You may tell her to come 
at once. 

Bertine. Very well, monsieur. [He goes off, rear 
left. D'Or takes the agreement from his pocket and 
laughs over it. He looks over other papers on the desk 
with deprecatory gestures. For a few moments he gazes 
at the portrait of Lehmann senior. Adrienne enters, 
rear left, followed by Bertine.] 

Bertine. Anything further, monsieur? 

D'Or. Not at present. [Exit I^ektu^e, left. Adrienne 
stands looking steadily at D'Or.] Mile. Courteaux, you 
doubtless wonder why I sent for you? 

Adrienne. [Simply.] No, I am not wondering. 

D'Or. But you surely cannot know? You see, I — 
that Is, I was so much distressed when I heard of your 
sick mother that I desire to learn if I can do anything for 
her — perhaps a better doctor, or a trip to the mountains. 
I am much Interested in her welfare. 

Adrienne. [Coolly.] M. D'Or, it is Impossible for 
me to believe that you are at all concerned about my 
mother. 

D'Or. You might at least credit me with good Inten- 
tions towards her. There was another reason for my 
summoning you. When I announced the increase in 
wages to the delegation, the others were profuse in their 
thanks. You said nothing — you burst Into tears. 

Adrienne. The rest believed you meant well by them. 

D'Or. And you? 

Adrienne. [After a pause.] I knew better. 



6o Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. [With a look of admiration.~\ You are entirely 
too bright a girl to pass your best years in a factory. This 
morning I recognized your beauty and your charm of 
manner — now I learn that you are clever as well. 

Adrienne. What next, M. D'Or? 

D'Or. How did the shops receive the news of the 
increase ? 

Adrienne. The workers went almost wild with joy. 

D'Or. And you alone find a sinister motive in what 
I did? 

Adrienne. Am I wrong? 

D'Or. [With apparent wounded dignity. ^ You are 
doing me a great injustice — I want you to regard me as a 
friend. I shall be perfectly frank with you. When I 
arrived here I had no intention of playing the philanthro- 
pist as I did a few moments ago. I would have supported 
the Lehmanns and there would have been no increase — not 
a franc for anyone — if I had not seen you at work. 

Adrienne. All this would be very complimentary, 
monsieur, if I could ignore the rest of your frankness. 

D'Or. When I urged the increase in wages it was to 
please you — you alone. I did not care a whit about the 
others — and the Lehmanns had to dance as I fiddled ! 

Adrienne. That was evident. I felt very sorry for 
them. 

D'Or. Then you don't think better of me for what I 
have done? 

Adrienne. How can you expect any one who reads 
your motives to think well of you? 

D'Or. Of course, the increase was only a trifle for 
you after all ! But suppose you could get away from the 



I Monsieur D'Or 6i 

lace-machine altogether, could live well, dress well and 
enjoy life in a way worthy of your beauty — would that 
make any difference? 

Adrienne. M. D'Or, why do you find it necessary to 
insult me? 

D'Or. Perhaps you care for that fellow Albert ? 

Adrienne. [Quietly.] No. 

D'Or. Is there any one else? 

Adrienne. No. 

D'Or. [More eagerly.] I wouldn't use that word 
* insult ' if I were you. I am offering to take you out of 
a life of drudgery into one of comfort and affluence, to 
put the luxuries of the world at your disposal, to give you 
the one talisman to the real joy of living. 

Adrienne. And that is — 

D'Or. [Drawing out a handful of gold coin and talk- 
ing hysterically.] Gold! Gold! Unlimited gold! The 
faithful slave that brings me whatever I desire. The 
power that sent the Lehmanns slinking out of this room 
a few minutes ago like a pair of whipped curs! The 
power that has placed the entire establishment of Lehmann 
Freres in my hands. I own it all — all, Adrienne! 

Adrienne. And you are the man who is now being 
proclaimed throughout the town as the champion of the 
poor man, the friend of the oppressed woman — you, who 
seek to control only that you may corrupt ! 

D'Or. [Nettled.] How dare you speak thus to me? 
You forget that I am your employer ! 

Adrienne. That you are not. You have made it 
impossible for me to earn my living here. [She moves 
toward the door, rear left.] Even if you do own Lehmann 



62 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Freres, you might at least spare to your workers their own 
souls. You call gold your faithful slave; be careful that 
your slave does not master you in the end! [She passes 
out quickly. D'Or stares after her and throws the coins 
on the table. He laughs nervously as he looks about, 
especially at the portrait of Lehmann senior. He picks 
up the petition, pulls out the agreement, and after some 
moments of indecision goes to the telephone.'\ 

D'Or. [Looks up the nmnber in the telephone book."] 
7 — I — 4 please. . . . Hello. . . . Yes. ... Is that the 
home of M. Raoul Lehmann ? . . . M. Lehmann himself? 
This is M. D'Or, at the office. . . . Yes. ... I have 
changed my mind about purchasing your interest and your 
brother's. . . . Yes, I prefer to restore the plant into your 
hands. . . . Yes, a majority of the stock as well as a bonus 
for cancelling the deal. ... I know you won't lose con- 
trol of it again. . . . Yes. ... I'm sorry I treated you 
and your brother so roughly to-day. . . . Why am I giving 
it up? Well, I've already had enough of it. Besides, 
your father's portrait makes me nervous. I wouldn't 
care to take it down — and I don't dare to look at it. . . . 
What's that? . . . You accept? Good! . . . Will you 
inform your brother? . . . Very well, in the morning at 
ten! Are you feeling better? ... I am glad to hear it. 
. . . Good-by. [He goes over to the table and slowly 
picks up the coins.^ To-day you played me a very shabby 
trick! [He pockets the gold, puts on his hat, takes his 
cane and is about to leave when he again notices the por- 
trait. He goes directly to it, takes off his hat with a 
bow and addresses the picture.'] M. Lehmann, I have the 
honor to bid you farewell! [With a laugh he goes out at 
the rear right entrance as the curtain falls.] 



SCENE II 

[The music salon of the Chateau D'Or. A handsome 
room, most luxuriously furnished in white and gold. The 
grand piano at the left is also finished in white and gold. 
The central entrance leads to a wide corridor which runs 
parallel with the room. The furniture and hangings are 
over-ornate, showing plainly the triumph of wealth over 
good taste in their selection. The guests of M. D'Or are 
seated about the room in fashionable morning toilettes. 
On a sofa right are seated Mme. Cyprienne Dacier and 
Mme. Lucette Clary. Before the curtain rises, the 
Prelude in C sharp minor by Sergei Rachmaninoff is played 
at the piano. As it concludes, the curtain rises and Henri 
Vaux is seen standing at the piano, bowing to the applause 
of the assembled guests. {If practicable, the curtain might 
rise before Vaux has completed his solo.) As the scene 
begins, the anonymous guests chat in groups.^ 

Lucette. Bravo, M. Vaux! You played that pre- 
lude beautifully. 

Vaux. Thank you, Mme. Clary. It is a favorite of 
mine, but perhaps a bit too depressing for such a pleasant 
occasion as this. 

Lucette. Not at all. We must remember that there 
is a serious side to life — don't you think so, Cyprienne? 

Cyprienne. Of course. We can't have dance music 
all the time. 

Vaux. But life — at least, life as the artist usually 
knows it — is apt to be sad enough; perhaps it is natural 

63 



64 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

that he should prefer a melancholy theme for subjective 
interpretation. 

Cyprienne. Speaking of melancholy themes reminds 
me that Adolphe Lemaire is to be here. 

LucETTE. Why do you call this M. Lemaire a melan- 
choly theme? 

Cyprienne. Don't you know him? He exhibited 
that remarkable painting called ' Death in Life ' in the 
recent Salon. 

LucETTE. I did not get to Paris this spring. 

Cyprienne. You surely saw a reproduction of the 
picture — it was copied in all the illustrated papers — a 
young girl wandering through a sun-lit grove and inter- 
cepted by a shrouded figure of Death. 

Lucette. Oh! I recall it! I shall be delighted to 
meet the artist. 

Vaux. M. D'Or usually brings together the most 
interesting people at his musicales. I believe the poet 
Moreau is also expected. You know him, Mme. Clary? 
A brilliant but eccentric genius! [Lucette shakes her 
head J] 

Cyprienne. You have surely heard of Jean Moreau. 
He writes those stinging verses against the government. 
M. Dacier says that the Opposition would be helpless with- 
out him. Of course, he pretends that his satires refer to 
the middle ages or to some other country, but every one 
knows what he means ! 

Lucette. Have you brought your daughter along, M. 
Vaux? 

Vaux. Yes ; she was in the corridor a few moments ago. 

Lucette. She is a most charming girl — so modest, so 



II Monsieur D'Or 65 

refined, and so very reticent! She seems almost afraid to 
express an opinion of her own. 

Vaux. Is there any wonder? The sort of opinions 
that society likes to hear are not the sort that a young girl 
can express with any self-respect. 

Cyprienne. Oh ! what a cynical remark ! Could any- 
thing be more attractive than the sincere thoughts of a 
sweet girl who has not yet lost her Illusions, who Is still 
a stranger to the bitter realities of life? [She sighs.^ 

LucETTE. My dear Cyprienne ! Do not seem so vividly 
reminiscent ! It makes me feel like an old woman to hear 
you talk In that strain. It isn't ages since we felt that 
vt^ay ourselves. 

Cyprienne. It Isn't ages, Lucette, in the number of 
years, but I feel that I have lived ages since then. 

Vaux. So you regret those days? 

Cyprienne. They were sweet; but life has been so 
varied since — I have enjoyed so much — that I cannot say 
that I regret the passing of Impossible ideals. We must 
all awaken from the vain dreams of youth! 

Vaux. I would have Helene dream while the mystic 
charm still pervades her soul; I would not have her 
crushed to earth by the revelation of the deep-seated mis- 
eries of existence. I would foster her love for art, her 
devotion to music — in short, her taste for such Ideals as 
are cherished by our genial and accomplished host, M. 
D'Or. [Enter D'Or, at the centre, in a frock coat, gold 
waistcoat, wearing a conspicuous scarf pin and rings.^ 

D'Or. My good friends! You have just enjoyed a 
treat! I heard the Rachmaninoff prelude from the cor- 
ridor, M. Vaux. Your interpretation is masterful; it is 
5 



66 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

the grip of despair Itself tugging at the heartstrings of 
humanity. We are all Indebted to you and pay homage 
to your art. I am having some light refreshment served 
In the corridor. Won't you kindly step that w^ay? M. 
Vaux, may I entrust Mme. Clary to you? [Vaux leads 
with LucETTE, the rest follow. Cyprienne takes D'Or's 
arm. When the others are out, he stops short.^^ 

D'Or. We need not hurry after the others, Mme. 
Dacler. I have not had a chance to chat vs^Ith you this 
morning; you will not deny me the pleasure of a few 
words. I do not see your husband among the guests. 

Cyprienne. He Is very busy at the bank just now. 
He finds It Impossible to get away — even for such a 
splendid affair as j^ou are giving us to-day. 

D'Or. It Is right that M. Dacler should regard his 
business as his first consideration. He Is becoming one 
of our best known bankers. 

Cyprienne. Ah! you are trying to flatter me. My 
husband Is like many others who are engaged In the money 
game — a good enough fellow In the ranks, but not likely 
to become a leader. He Is somewhat envious of you! 

D'Or. He envious of me? 

Cyprienne. Yes — your close association with the house 
of Blausteln. He has sought for years to acquire the 
good will of that firm, but evidently his talents and re- 
sources are not sufficient to command their attention. I 
also am envious, M. D'Or. 

D'Or. Surely not. 

Cyprienne. I am envious of your future wife. Think 
of the unlimited wealth you will place at her disposal — 
the unfailing resource of gold. 



II Monsieur D'Or 67 

D'Or. [Sentimentally.] I shall never marry. 

Cyprienne. And why not? 

D'Or. Because the one charming woman whom I 
know is already married. [Cyprienne affects indiffer- 
ence.] Her name is — Cyprienne! [He takes her hand.] 

Cyprienne. [Starts, but does not withdraw her hand.] 
Hush, M. D'Or — you should not say such things! You 
should not call me Cyprienne. M. Dacier would not like it. 

D'Or. Do you think there is the remotest possibility 
of my saying it in his hearing, Cyprienne? 

Cyprienne. [Archly.] You are an irresistible man. 
How many hearts have you broken? 

D'Or. None, I assure you. My own heart is more 
likely to be broken, unless — 

Cyprienne. [Coming closer.] M. D'Or, you might 
say a favorable word or two about Dacier to the Blausteins 
— you have such great influence! 

D'Or. [Eagerly.] I shall be delighted to do so, 
Cyprienne. We must talk it over some time. When can 
I see you? 

Cyprienne. You are always welcome at our chateau. 

D'Or. But I would see you alone! 

Cyprienne. [With feigned surprise.] Alone? 

D'Or. Surely, our plan is to arrange a surprise for M. 
Dacier. At what hour does he reach home? 

Cyprienne. At four or later. 

D'Or. Then I may call some afternoon — say at two? 
[Cyprienne starts.] We can talk things over quite by 
ourselves. And then — [Enter Baptiste.] 

Baptiste. [Announcing.] M. Moreau! [Baptiste 
retires.] 



68 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. \_To Cyprienne.] Confound the poet! I'd 
rather chat with you. [Enter Moreau.] Welcome, my 
dear M. Moreau! I'm delighted to see you. 

Moreau. Pardon my lateness, M. D'Or. I have 
been attending a conclave of the Opposition. 

D'Or. Still denouncing the government, eh? I hope 
you will find it more agreeable here. Mme. Dacier, may 
I present M. Moreau? 

Cyprienne. [Extending her hand.] M. Moreau is 
an old friends of ours. [Enter Baptiste.] 

Baptiste. [Announcing.] M. Lemaire! [He retires.] 

Moreau. Ah ! so Lemaire is also late. Evidently we 
poets and artists are an unreliable class. [Enter Lemaire.] 

D'Or. My best greetings, my dear Lemaire. [Lemaire 
greets Cyprienne and Moreau.] We feared you were 
going to disappoint us this time — and every one is anxious 
to learn what work you have undertaken since your suc- 
cessful painting * Death in Life.' 

Lemaire. [Staring vacantly and nervously.] I've done 
very little lately. Heaven knows, I should be working, 
but that picture seems to have exhausted every vestige of 
inspiration in my being. I find it impossible to pull myself 
together. 

Moreau. I know the sensation — a great vital utter- 
ance leaves the inventive power paralyzed and one gropes 
about in vain for support. 

D'Or. Gentlemen, if you will pardon me, I shall 
escort Mme. Dacier to the corridor for some refreshment. 
Pray make yourselves at home; I shall rejoin you shortly. 
[Exeunt D'Or and Cyprienne.] 

Lemaire. [Looking about.] What a palace! What 



II Monsieur D'Or 69 

wonderful appointments! Is it conceivable that the pen 
or the brush could ever earn such luxury for either of us ? 
D'Or's supply of gold seems inexhaustible — and he spends 
vi^ith a knowing hand. 

MoREAU. A pleasant fellow, our host! My only 
regret is that he sympathizes with the scoundrels who con- 
stitute the present ministry. If I could only get him to 
support the Opposition, we should have the Premier's 
resignation within a week ! 

Lemaire. Try him, Moreau ! It's worth working 
for! I believe that the mere mention of D'Or's name as 
an adherent of our party would overturn the authority of 
the Premier. Try to have a quiet talk with him before 
you go — and let me know how you succeed. 

Moreau. I shall do it; with D'Or on our side the 
cause is as good as won! And then, Lemaire, a brighter 
day shall dawn for our country. We shall once more 
lead the way to higher and nobler achievement. [Enter 
D'Or.] 

D'Or. You see, my friends, I have not kept you wait- 
ing long. Perhaps you would care to partake of some 
refreshment ? 

Moreau. No, thank you. Like most poets, I think 
most clearly on an empty stomach. 

D'Or. With many poets compulsion and not choice 
develops that opinion. And you, M. Lemaire? 

Lemaire. [With a significant look at Moreau.] I 
think I shall cater a bit to the inner man. I shall rejoin 
you later. Au revoir! [Exit Lemaire.] 

D'Or. Well, my dear Moreau, on what are you work- 
ing now? I hope you are not as destitute of plans as our 
good friend Lemaire? 



70 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

MoREAU. No; I am writing a new poem which I 
hope to finish shortly. 

D'Or. May I enquire the nature of your subject? 

MoREAU. Certainly. I am seeking to glorify the future 
of our country and to blaze the way toward the realiza- 
tion of its noblest ideals. [Slowly.l Of course, such a 
dream is impossible under existing conditions. 

D'Or. You mean the present ministry? 

MoREAU. Yes. They are a group of detestable poli- 
ticians who make all great questions of state subservient to 
their own schemes for personal power and profit. 

D'Or. I think you are a little unfair to the Premier 
and his associates. You must not forget that every party 
when out of office rails against those in control. 

MoREAU. But the Opposition stands upon a firm 
foundation of integrity and high moral purpose. 

D'Or. Mere vaporing, my dear Moreau. The minor- 
ity is always respectable. It's their only chance to re- 
gain the ascendancy. If your Opposition should triumph 
they would soon be drunk with power and the present 
party could successfully parade its manifold virtues before 
the public. 

Moreau. So you really believe that in the long run 
there can be no improvement in government ? 

D'Or. Yes, if you choose to put it thus; and my 
advice to you is that you join the party in power. You 
have too much talent to squander your life in the service 
of a hopeless Opposition. 

Moreau. Hopeless? I thought that possibly you might 
be induced to join our cause — to become the patron of a 
new and better order of things. 



II Monsieur D'Or 71 

D'Or. [^Apparently ignoring the remark.^ Of course, 
the ministry has antagonized the visionaries — Idealists like 
yourself, who dream of Utopian governments, but who 
have little or no experience In practical affairs. 

MoREAU. An Instinctive sense of right and wrong Is 
the best equipment for a statesman. 

D'Or. There speaks the poet! Now, may I tell you 
In confidence what really does constitute the best equip- 
ment for a statesman ? 

MoREAU. [Curiously.'] What is It? 

D'Or. [Deliberately.] Knowledge of the fact that 
his party has the approval of the Blaustelns ! 

MoREAU. [Astounded.] The approval of a banking- 
house ! 

D'Or. The approval of the greatest power In the 
world — unlimited gold. 

MoREAU. It seems hardly credible! The utter cor- 
ruption of the existing state of affairs Is beyond my com- 
prehension. 

D'Or. M. Moreau, let us talk sensibly about these 
things. I like your poetry very much; I admire every- 
thing about you except your political sentiments. Why 
do you not put your fine talent to better use? 

Moreau. What better use is there than devotion to 
the popular welfare? 

D'Or. Nonsense. The people for whom you write 
cannot appreciate the subtlety of your thought nor the 
nobility of your inspired poetic flights. They place a 
scant value upon your efforts. The present government 
honors Its friends more highly. A poem In praise of the 
ministry would bring you greater material reward and 



72 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

more renown than ten years of labor for the ungrateful 
Opposition. 

MoREAU. M. D'Or, I am devoted to our cause; I 
would not write a poem in commendation of the present 
ministry for fifty thousand francs. 

D'Or. [Alert.'] You would not? 

MoREAU. No. It would be treason to the people. 

D'Or. How long would you labor for the popular 
cause before you earned fifty thousand francs with your 
pen? 

MoREAU. Five years at least. 

D'Or. And you are unwilling to purchase a release 
from five years of drudgery by a single effort because of a 
conscientious scruple? You are indeed a patriot. 

MoREAU. I wish merely to be true to myself. 

D'Or. [Slowly.] M. Moreau, what would you do if 
some one were to offer you — say one hundred thousand 
francs for a poem over your signature addressed to the 
Premier and commending the present government? 

MoREAU, [Aghast.] One hundred thousand francs! 
The question is ridiculous. You are trying to entrap me. 

D'Or. The question is not ridiculous. I offer you 
that sum ! 

Moreau. Are you serious? 

D'Or. I shall not mince words. The government 
seeks the support of its most intelligent and most gifted 
people. You are one of these. The government would 
not, however, pay you such an amount as I have men- 
tioned; that sum represents my personal gratification at 
the prospect of numbering M. Moreau among the cham- 
pions of the ministry. 



II Monsieur D'Or 73 

MoREAU. You are bribing me! 

D'Or. I am not. I am telling you that there is fame 
and substantial reward for the adherents of the govern- 
ment ; there is futile effort and wasted opportunity for the 
Opposition. You are a sane man ; which do you choose ? 

MoREAU. But to write such a poem is a manifest 
renunciation of my high principles of conduct. 

D'Or. To write such a poem is a declaration to the 
world that you have become a conservative. Are you 
familiar with that word ' conservative ' ? It is a word of 
excellent savor and of good repute. A man who betrays 
a cause is justly styled a renegade or a traitor; but a man 
who has held visionary views concerning government or 
society, and who as a result of maturer deliberation rejects 
such fallacies and becomes an adherent of the existing 
social order may properly be styled a conservative. That's 
the worst they can say about you — and the reward is the 
price of ten years' hard labor with the pen. 

MoREAU. [^Bewildered.'] One hundred thousand francs! 
I can see it in every journal in Paris ! ' M. Moreau joins 
the conservatives ! ' One hundred thousand francs ! 

D'Or. [Jestingly.'] You will note that there is noth- 
ing conservative in the sum I am offering you. I should 
call it liberal — decidedly liberal! 

Moreau. [Brokenly.] After all, perhaps you're right. 
Lemaire will think I'm a cur — but I accept your offer. I 
may live to regret this step, but I cannot resist you. I 
shall write your poem and I shall mean every word that 
I say. Henceforth I am one of your party. There is no 
future for me elsewhere. I want you to understand that 
I am completely within your ranks. I will not be a hire- 



74 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

ling, to puff the Premier in a single insincere poem. You 
have not bought a poem, M. D'Or — you have bought me, 
body and soul. Do you understand? 

D'Or. [Quietly.^ Yes. It was you I was bidding for. 

MoREAU. [More wildly.^ It's a serious matter, this 
tearing one's self out by the roots. I must have time for 
reflection. Pardon me, M. D'Or, it is growing oppres- 
sive here — I must have fresh air. I cannot meet Lemaire 
just now. You shall have your poem — a poem from the 
depths of my heart. It's fresh air I need — fresh air! 
[//e staggers out with a groan. D'Or looks after him 
and smiles strangely. He draws a handful of gold coins 
from his pocket and is about to jingle the?n when Lemaire 
enters. D'Or replaces the coins quickly.^ 

Lemaire. You are alone! I expected to find M. 
Moreau with you. 

D'Or. [Coolly.'] He left me only a moment ago. 
Have you partaken of the luncheon ? 

Lemaire. Yes, and chatted with some of your delight- 
ful guests. I am grateful to find so many recognized 
Liberals among them. Are you being converted? 

D'Or. By no means — but I like to know intimately 
all points of view. It's part of one's education, after all. 
I try to make these gatherings as varied as possible and to 
give free rein to the expression of opinion. Did you hear 
nothing that might arouse renewed inspiration for another 
great painting? 

Lemaire. [Gloomily.'] I shall probably grope long 
in the dark before I find another subject as striking as 
'Death in Life'! 

D'Or. Surely, there are many themes available? 



II Monsieur D'Or 75 

Lemaire. Few that I should care to depict. I shall 
paint nothing ignoble, nothing degrading. If my brush 
is not destined to uplift and to glorify mankind, I shall 
cast it aside. 

D'Or. a noble ideal, indeed; but ideals are evanes- 
cent in this corrupt old world of ours. 

Lemaire. Are they not about all that is worth while ? 

D'Or. Rather too unsubstantial, I should say. After 
all, an artist must labor for his bread and butter. Of 
course, he may be so absorbed in his ideals that he ignores 
the gross commercial value of his inspiration and its 
product. I am told you sold your ' Death in Life ' for a 
trifle — yet it is your finest picture. 

Lemaire. I have no regrets. The ' Death in Life ' 
was sold to a collector while it still hung in my studio. 
He offered two thousand francs — I needed the money and 
accepted. Had I anticipated the success of the picture in 
the Salon, I might have asked more. 

D'Or. That picture would have been cheap at ten 
thousand francs. Perhaps you do not know that I offered 
your lucky purchaser twice that sum — and it was refused ! 

Lemaire. Twenty thousand francs for my painting! 

D'Or. Yes, and it was refused. [After a pause.'] I 
have an idea, M. Lemaire — a good one. Will you paint 
me a companion piece to ' Death in Life ' ? 

Lemaire. A companion piece? 

D'Or. Yes. You might call it 'Life in Death' by 
way of contrast. I will give you thirty thousand francs 
for such a painting, if you permit me to suggest the subject. 

Lemaire. You are willing to pay that price for a 
painting of mine? 



"J^ Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. I have an object In view. I wish to make the 
other painting ridiculous, so that the purchaser may be 
willing to part with It. 

Lemaire. I do not quite understand — 

D'Or. Why should you? It Is but necessary that 
you accept my offer. 

Lemaire. Of course I accept! It Is many times 
more than I have ever received for a painting, but you are 
a rich man, a noble patron of the arts. Have you chosen 
your subject? 

D'Or. You agree to be bound to It? 

Lemaire. Yes. It Is to be called 'Life In Death,' I 
understand, and Is to represent — 

D'Or. \_Slowly.'] A dead rat lying In a foul gutter! 

Lemaire. [With a cry.'] You are mad, M. D'Or! 

D'Or. Not at all. I think It's a rather good subject 
to accomplish my purpose. I would like you to represent 
the rat as putrescent — 

Lemaire. [Horrified.] Stop, monsieur! You are In- 
sulting me. I shall hear no more of that. 

D'Or. You gave your promise. 

Lemaire. Yes, to paint a picture — not to execute a 
mad vagary of yours. 

D'Or. I don't expect my realistic theme to conform 
with your airy ideals, but think of the money I Intend to 
pay you for this painting. 

Lemaire. It won't do. I must refuse. 

D'Or. [Firmly.'] I Intend to have that dead rat, M. 
Lemaire ! 

Lemaire. Then you must get some one else to paint It. 

D'Or. I Intend that you shall paint It. Perhaps I 



II Monsieur D'Or 77 

estimate realism too cheaply. I offer you forty thousand 
francs for the rat ! 

Lemaire. [Almost in a whisper.'] Forty thousand 
francs! To drag my reputation as an artist through the 
slime ? 

D'Or. No. To Initiate you Into a new and profitable 
school of art. Do you not realize that mankind has a 
natural craving for the unclean and the depraved ? Mine 
will not be your last commission In the realistic style. 
Remember that I am offering you twenty times as much 
as you received for your ' Death In Life.' If any one 
asks you why you painted ' Life In Death,' tell them it is 
a parody on the original, executed at my order. 

Lemaire. [Hesitating.'] If I did not need the money 
so badly, I would — [Suddenly.] I'll do it — I'll do it for 
you, M. D'Or. I cannot help myself. [Beating his fore- 
head.] A dead rat — Great Heavens! — a dead rat! [He 
rushes out wildly. D'Or is about to jingle the gold 
as beforej but feels that he cannot. He mops his brow 
with his handkerchief and seems somewhat distracted. 
Meanwhile Helene Vaux, a charming girl of eighteen, 
dressed simply in white, enters quietly and gazes strangely 
at D'Or as if to fathom his thoughts.] 

D'Or. [Observing her.] Mile. Vaux! I did not 
hear you come in. 

Helene. [Timidly.] Pardon me, M. D'Or. I am 
looking for my father. 

D'Or. Surely you will not deny me the pleasure of 
a few words with you. I am always glad to see you here 
with your father, but you seem desirous of avoiding me. 

Helene. [Nervously.] No! — I — 



78 Monsieur DVr SC. 

D'Or. My sole object on such occasions as this is 
to make my guests happy — to entertain them in a way 
that will ever be a pleasant memory in the days to come; 
yet you always seem apprehensive of harm — 

Helene. I cannot explain. It seems so strange that 
you — [She stops helplessly. They gaze fixedly at each 
other.] 

D'Or. [After a pause.'] Eleanor! [He seems en- 
tranced.] 

Helene. Why do you call me Eleanor? My name 
is Helene. 

D'Or. [Embarrassed.] Pardon me, Mile. Vaux. I 
once knew some one of that name. You resemble her — 
you bring back fleeting memories of the past. 

Helene. [/// at ease.] I do not understand — I must 
find my father. [She goes off hastily. D'Or sits down at 
the right and rests his head on his hand as if dazed. He 
does not notice Baptiste who enters.] 

Baptiste. M. D'Or! [Louder.] M. D'Or! [A 
pause.] 

D'Or. [Recovering himself.] Baptiste! 

Baptiste. Mme. Dacier asked me to give you this 
note. 

D'Or. [Takes it.] Very well. ["Qavtiste bows him- 
self out. D'Or opens the envelope and draws out a card 
which he reads.] * To-morrow at two — Cyprienne.' [He 
quickly thrusts the card into his waistcoat pocket. His 
demeanor instantly changes. He is co?npletely aroused 
from his trance. Vaux enters at the centre.] Ah! M. 
Vaux, your daughter is looking for you ! 

Vaux. I have been neglecting her all morning. I 



II Monsieur D'Or 79 

thought she was talking to Mme. Clary a few moments 
ago. 

D'Or. Your daughter Is a most attractive girl — one 
In a thousand. I congratulate you, M. Vaux, on the pos- 
session of such a jewel. 

Vaux. [Pleased.] Yes, Helene Is a good girl — my 
chief consolation since her mother was taken away. It Is 
my one regret that I cannot give her the musical training 
that her talents merit. 

D'Or. Surely she has teachers? 

Vaux. The best that my purse allows, but not the 
best to be had. We musicians cannot hope to win great 
wealth, yet I still have hopes that when my new sym- 
phonic poem Is brought out — 

D'Or. a new composition! I am glad to hear of It. 

Vaux. It Is almost completed. I have been laboring 
on It for many years. It was begun In the first hours of 
grief after the loss of Helene's mother. I have put my 
very soul Into that score ! 

D'Or. Have you a program In mind? 

Vaux. I shall call It ' The Conqueror ' — the record 
of a storm-tossed soul that works Its way through peril 
and temptation to the triumphant heights of Its Ideal. 
You see how much of a dreamer I am, but I love the Idea 
of the conquering soul — the personality that dominates 
and directs. 

D'Or. [Much interested.] That Is a very fascinating 
Idea — the personality that dominates! I am sure you 
will win fame with ' The Conqueror.' Have you sought 
to glorify a particular hero In your composition ? 

Vaux. No. It would be difficult to find a man who 



8o Monsieur D'Or SC. 

represents my ideal conqueror — who reaches the heights 
unspotted with the stains of the battle. 

D'Or. The more I think of your idea, the more it 
pleases me. I always have sought to be such a conqueror 
as you have in mind — a man of commanding position and 
so equipped as to become a directing intelligence in the 
affairs of the world. This may sound boastful, M. Vaux, 
but I have a reason for speaking thus. 

Vaux. [Bewildered.^ I do not understand — 

D'Or. You say that you have no particular hero in 
mind to whom you are addressing your symphonic poem. 
Would it be presumptuous on my part to say that I should 
feel honored to have such a composition dedicated to me? 
Let me explain more fully, M. Vaux — there need be no 
reserve. I have abundance of the wealth that you in 
common with others find so useful ; you have a talent that 
can immortalize the man to whom your compositions are 
addressed. If you were to honor me with the dedication 
of ' The Conqueror ' I should see that every resource were 
at the disposal of Mile. Vaux for her thorough musical 
training. 

Vaux. For Helene's education? 

D'Or. It would be a trifle for me, M. Vaux; to you 
it would represent long hours of arduous toil. Thus each 
of us can serve the other. 

Vaux. [^Anxious not to offend.^ I must confess that 
I had a very different ideal of * The Conqueror ' — pardon 
my bluntness, but my hero typified spiritual achievement, 
not the conquests of material wealth. 

D'Or. Of course — I understand. Spiritual achieve- 
ment has a pleasant sound and at one time in the world's 



II Monsieur D'Or 8i 

history It probably meant something ; but we are living in 
a very different age. The real conquerors of to-day are 
the men who act as stewards of the world's great wealth. 
I can buy you any man you may name, heart and soul. 
It Is merely a question of price — 

Vaux. [Horrified.] M. D'Or! 

D'Or. I know It sounds scandalous, but It Is true — I 
have demonstrated my power. There are no conquests In 
this world like the conquests of material wealth. 

Vaux. [Sadly.] I have lived in this world many 
more years than you, M. D'Or— I know the weakness of 
humanity. There Is much truth In what you say ; but we 
artists have not done our duty If we are content to depict 
the world as we find It— If we do not point the way to 
higher Ideals — 

D'Or. [Impatiently.] A truce to your Ideals! I 
have heard more than enough this morning about Ideals! 
I have just made you a substantial and flattering offer; 
you seem Inclined to treat me In turn to a conventional 
discussion on the nature of the artistic impulse. You are 
a poor man, M. Vaux, though a talented one. You have 
a daughter whose future welfare Is largely concerned in 
your answer to my offer. Are you foolish enough to 
hesitate ? 

Vaux. I appreciate fully what your offer means, but 
people win understand by my dedication that I desire to 
uphold you as the type of ' The Conqueror ' — 

D'Or. And why not? 

Vaux. Because I had a very different conqueror in 
mind — one whose career typified a conquest by spiritual 
resource, by unfailing courage — 
6 



82 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. [Suddenly but with deliberation.^ M. Vaux, 
do you love your daughter Helene? Are you mindful 
of her future — of the years when you will no longer be 
here to protect her? 

Vaux. [Completely broken.~\ I can struggle against 
you no longer. You have triumphed ! ' The Conqueror ' 
shall be dedicated to you! 

D'Or. [Smoothly.'] I appreciate the honor, especially 
since there was no haggling over terms. Rest assured, 
M. Vaux, you will have no occasion to regret your trust 
in my generosity. 

Vaux. [Subdued.] I have done it for my Helene. [ He 
sits on the sofa, right, and see?ns overcome with emotion. 
Helene enters and takes a half kneeling position on the 
mat at his feet. She places a small autograph album on 
his lap.] 

Helene. Father, I have been searching for you. Mme. 
Clary wishes your autograph. Isn't it an honor! Just 
look at the famous names — artists, poets, musicians — 

Vaux. [Takes a fountain pen from his pocket and 
writes.] Mme. Clary is very kind to ask your father to 
enroll himself in this record of genius. [Turning the 
pages.] What is this? M. D'Or, I find your name 
here! 

D'Or. [With a s?nile.] Indeed! Does it appear out 
of place among your brilliant assemblage of earth's talented 
sons? 

Vaux. No, no ! Do not misunderstand me ! I thought 
it was merely a collection of artists' autographs. I am 
pleased to see it includes at least one generous patron of 
the arts. [To Helene.] Helene, we are much indebted 



II Monsieur D'Or 83 

to M. D'Or. He will make it possible for me to give 
you the best masters for your musical training. 

Helene. [Rising.] You could not accept such an 
offer? 

Vaux. [Embarrassed.] I am dedicating ' The Con- 
queror ' to M. D'Or. It has pleased him to express his 
generous intentions in return. 

Helene. [Turning on D'Or with unexpected energy.] 
' The Conqueror ' ! [Reproachfully.] M. D'Or, you have 
taken advantage of an old man. 

D'Or. Taken advantage! Those are hard w^ords for 
one who has your welfare at heart. I am enabling your 
father to provide amply for you; indirectly I am helping 
you to make the most of life, to win fame and position if 
the talent abides within you. This you call taking advan- 
tage of your father! 

Helene. M. D'Or, we are here as your guests. I 
cannot speak frankly. 

D'Or. If I have offended you, my roof shall not save 
me from your reproaches. Speak as freely as you will and 
tell me honestly why you despise my offer. 

Vaux. Helene, I beseech you, be careful how you 
answer. 

Helene. [To D'Or.] You see how thoroughly you 
have subdued my poor father! He fears that my frank- 
ness will forfeit the bounty you are disposed to heap upon 
us. You wish me to speak freely ? 

D'Or. By all means. 

Helene. Very well. M. D'Or, I fear the intention 
of your apparent kindness. 

D'Or. Why do you say that? 



84 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Helene. a few moments ago I passed M. Moreau 
in the corridor — Moreau, the brave champion of the peo- 
ple — and I heard him say that he had changed his political 
views, and now felt morally obliged to support the ministry ! 

Vaux. [Astonished.'] Moreau a conservative! Im- 
possible ! 

D'Or. What have I to do with Moreau's politics? 

Helene. [Watching him closely.'] I cannot help 
thinking that you had a hand in his sudden change of 
faith. 

D'Or. [Carelessly.] Why should I deny it? You 
would not believe me. 

Helene. [Corning closer.] M. D'Or, I would believe 
j^ou, if I heard you deny it! Do you deny it? 

D'Or. [Without flinching, looking steadily at her.] 
Mile. Vaux, I admire your courage; I marvel at your 
penetration. I shall tell you the truth. I bought that 
fellow Moreau for so much gold. He's my man now and 
he'll take my orders when I give them. [Vaux groans.] 

Helene. Father, do you hear what M. D'Or says? 
[To D'Or.] Is there nothing else on your conscience? 
Are you aware that M. Lemaire is astonishing j^our guests 
by incoherent ravings about dead rats and foul-smelling 
gutters? 

D'Or. [Steadily.] It's the subject for his next paint- 
ing. The fellow is executing it at my commission. I 
chose the subject, and I pay him his price. [Vaux groans 
again.] 

Helene. [To Vaux.] Are you still inclined to dedi- 
cate 'The Conqueror' to M. D'Or? 

Vaux. I have given my promise. 



II Monsieur D'Or 85 

D'Or. I shall release you from that promise If Mile. 
Vaux requests It. 

Helene. I do not request It. After all, you are a 
conqueror — you have triumphed over my unhappy father 
just as you overcame those other frail souls and dragged 
them to the earth. 

D'Or. I release your father from his promise. His 
conqueror Is a vain seeker after empty Ideals. M. Vaux, 
you may dedicate your symphonic flight to whom you will, 
but I beg you to let me carry out at least my part of our 
compact. [Vaux looks eagerly at Helene to reply.} 

Helene. You have made that Impossible for us, M. 
D'Or. We cannot accept your generosity. [To Vaux.] 
We must not stay here any longer. Let us go home. 

D'Or. Can we not remain friends? Will you not 
permit the resources of my wealth to prove my friendship ? 

Helene. [More softly.} The best way to befriend 
you, M. D'Or, Is to prove to you the futility of your 
wealth. Come, father. 

Vaux. Good-bye, M. D'Or. [He offers his hand.] 

D'Or. Good-bye. [He looks at Helene.] 

Helene. [After a pause extends her hand.} Good-bye. 
Are you not convinced? 

D'Or. Not yet — but you are very kind to me. [He 
kisses her hand.} 

Vaux. [Near the entrance, as if inspired.} M. D'Or, 
at last I know to whom I shall dedicate ' The Conqueror.' 

D'Or. To whom? 

Vaux. [Taking Helene's hand.} To my daughter 
Helene! [They go out quickly.} 

D'Or. [Somewhat seriously, after a pause.} Perhaps 



86 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

the old man is right — and perhaps he is not! [Laughs 
cynically and puts his hand as if by instinct to his waist- 
coat pocket. He draws out Cyprienne's card and reads 
it again.'] ' To-morrow at two — Cyprienne.' [He kisses 
the card as the curtain falls.] 



SCENE III 

[A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken. The 
room is handsomely furnished in dark red. There are 
wide double doors in the centre with elaborate panels on 
either side. On the left side there is an exit and a fire- 
place in which a fire is burning. On the right there is 
a window overlooking the street below. There is also an 
exit further front. The furniture is appropriate for a 
business meeting. A large central table is flanked by five 
armchairs. There is a large armchair, left; also a small 
table with an adjacent chair, right. As the curtain rises 
one central door opens slowly and Claire Lasalle peers 
in nervously. Seeing no one, she enters and closes the 
door softly behind her. She is dressed in black, with a 
white collar, and carries a small leather writing pad. Her 
demeanor is that of a person undertaking a delicate and 
difficult mission. She goes to the door, right, and knocks 
cautiously. Receiving no answer, she stands for a mo- 
ment, centre, in evident indecision, then advances to the 
door, left, and knocks. The door is opened and M. D'Or 
steps in. He wears black satin knee-breeches and a fancy 
house-jacket, heavily trimmed with gold braid. Claire 
hurriedly draws a card from her pad and hands it to 
D'Or.] 

Claire. M. D'Or? 

D'Or. Yes. {Reads the card.] * Mile. Claire Lasalle, 
stenographer.' [He looks at her curiously, then at the 

87 



88 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

card.] Ah! the Blausteins! I must confess I hardly- 
expected them to send a lady! [He bows.~\ 

Claire. The Blausteins desire a verbatim report of 
the meeting. 

D'Or. Are you familiar with such commissions as this ? 

Claire. [Smiling.] Yes. [She looks about.] You 
must place me where I can write unmolested. It is not 
necessary that I should see them. My hearing is acute. 
[She indicates the door, right.] Is that room available? 

D'Or. Yes. 

Claire. They are likely to insist on locked doors. 
You might let me lock myself in. I can open the door 
slightly after the conference has begun. 

D'Or. Very well. I shall turn the knob as a signal 
to you that we are about to begin. Be very careful, 
mademoiselle! 

Claire. Have no fear. Such experience is not new 
to me. 

D'Or. Do you know them — Muirhead, Graefflingen, 
and the rest? 

Claire. All but Andriev. He is a stranger to me. 
You expect them at three? We have little time to spare. 

D'Or. You're right. I shall make you comfortable 
before they arrive. [He crosses to the right.] You will 
pardon my appearance, Mile. Lasalle — I was dressing for 
this conference when you knocked. 

Claire. Certainly. Do not let me detain you. [He 
goes off, right, meanwhile she opens her leather pad and 
gets her pencils ready. In a moment D'Or returns.] 

D'Or. I have placed a chair for you just beside the 
door. [After a pause.] Really, I cannot quite grasp the 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 89 

Idea that a woman should be entrusted with diplomatic 
work of this character. 

Claire. [Facetiously.] There are women and women. 

D'Or. And, moreover, a few rarely endowed young 
ladles who can keep secrets — Important secrets of state. 
Mademoiselle, I congratulate you ! I hope the Blaustelns 
pay you adequately for such unusual services. 

Claire. [Simply.'] A thousand francs a session. 

D'Or. Will you permit me to double it this time? 

Claire. [Surprised, but on her guard.] Why should 
you? 

D'Or. [Ingenuously.] Why shouldn't I ? 

Claire. [Sharply.] M. D'Or, the thousand francs 
that the Blaustelns pay me are sufficiently tainted. I've 
sunk about as low as I care to. Does that answer your 
question ? 

D'Or. Your cleverness assures me that the Blaustelns 
do not appreciate you at your real worth. 

Claire. Perhaps you're right — but I had the privilege 
of naming the degree and the price of my corruption, so 
I have no cause for complaint. May I take my place in 
the next room? 

D'Or. Certainly. [He throws open the door, right, 
for her.] Make yourself comfortable, while I hurry Into 
the rest of my official dress. [She passes out.] But let 
me first test our arrangement. [He adjusts the door to a 
very slight aperture.] There! How Is that? [He 
crosses to the left side and faces the door, right.] Now, 
mademoiselle, can you hear me distinctly at this distance? 

Claire. [Within.] Yes, quite plainly. 

D'Or. Can you hear me when I say that my offer oi 



90 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

that extra thousand francs will hold good after the con- 
ference If you should see fit to take it ? [No answer. He 
draws a little nearer^ Perhaps you would hear better if 
I said two thousand francs! 

Claire. {Throwing the door wide open and stepping 
into the room.'] M. D'Or, we two — you and I — are 
about to engage in a very contemptible business here. I 
am being paid my price; I trust you are getting yours. 
There should be some show of mutual respect even among 
the corrupt. If you annoy me further, I may be tempted 
to step out during your little conference to expose you for 
the despicable creature that you are! 

D'Or. {With a deprecatory gesture.] Pray retire, 
mademoiselle, to your post of vantage. I shall risk no 
further verbal fusillade from that accomplished tongue of 
yours. 

Claire. [With a sneer.] Where did the Blausteins 
find you? They have the reputation of employing agents 
who attend strictly to the business at hand. Let us see if 
you can live up to that standard! [She goes off, right, 
and closes the door with a hang. The lock clicks audibly. 
D'Or shrugs his shoulders and goes off, left, shaking his 
head. For a few moments the stage is empty. A knock 
is heard at the centre door. It is repeated, then the door 
opens and Herr Loben steps in. He draws out his 
watch.] 

Loben. None here yet! I have the honor to be the 
first. \He crosses to the table, right, and puts down a 
red portfolio. A moment later Mr. Gilbert enters, 
carrying a similar black portfolio. Loben's back is 
turned.] 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 9^ 

Gilbert. Herr Loben, I believe? 

LoBEN. [Turning.'] Ah— you are the secretary of 
Sir Mortimer Mulrhead — let me see — Mr. — 

Gilbert. Mr. Gilbert. 

Loben. Yes! Good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert. I Infer 
that Sir Mortimer Is to be at this mysterious conference? 

Gilbert. [He places his portfolio on the centre table 
and examines his papers.] Yes. Is Baron Graeffllngen 
also to be here ? 

Loben. I expect him every moment. [He goes to the 
window and looks out. Comes back and watches Gil- 
bert with his papers, then, after a pause, speaks as if in 
confidence.] I say, Mr. Gilbert, do you know what It's 
all about ? 

Gilbert. [Carelessly.] What? This meeting with 
M. D'Or? 

Loben. Yes. Do you know him ? 

Gilbert. I have seen him once or twice at the consu- 
late. He is enormously rich — one of the Blaustein coterie. 

Loben. Ah ! so this Is a Blaustein affair ! I thought 
as much. Marquis Fallot and Count Andrlev are also 
to be here. Quite an International gathering, eh? 

Gilbert. [Absently, busy with his papers.] Yes, 
quite so. [Suddenly.] What's that you're saying ? Fallot 
and Andrlev? 

Loben. I thought you took It rather mildly. Yes, 
both of them. [A pause.] Do you suspect anything? 

Gilbert. What do you mean ? 

Loben. Don't you imagine that something Is on foot 
when such a distinguished array of diplomatic talent 
gathers to receive orders from the Blausteins — 



92 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Gilbert. [Springing up.'\ To receive orders — from 
the Blausteins? Herr Loben, that is too absurd — 

LoBEN. [With a shrug.] How long have you been 
Sir Mortimer's secretary? 

Gilbert. Six months. 

Loben. Still a youngster In diplomacy, eh? I have 
been with Baron Graeffllngen for — let me see — seven 
years this winter. 

Gilbert. Well ? 

Loben. Only this, Mr. Gilbert. To-day Is not the 
first time that I hear the name of the Blausteins. 

Gilbert. Possibly not! But you spoke of their giving 
orders — 

Loben. I hate to disillusion you — there was a time 
when I felt about things as you do now — those were the 
days of my diplomatic Innocence. [Motor-horn is heard 
outside. Loben goes to the window.] It's your principal, 
Sir Mortimer. 

Gilbert. [Looks at his watch.] He's on time. It 
lacks a minute or two of three. 

Loben. [Coming forward.] He evidently doesn't 
believe in keeping an emissary of the Blausteins waiting. 
[Gilbert is annoyed.] No offense, Mr. Gilbert — the 
others won't be long In following him. [Enter Sir 
Mortimer Muirhead at the centre.] 

MuiRHEAD. [Nods to GiLBERT, then turns to Loben.] 
Good afternoon, Herr Loben. Graefflingen's coming? 

Loben. [Politely.] Yes, Sir Mortimer. He should 
be here now. 

Muirhead. [To Gilbert.] You have sent off the 
dispatches ? 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 93 

Gilbert. Yes; they went this morning. I have re- 
ceived a wire confirming your reservations at Geneva for 
next week. 

MuiRHEAD. Very good. [To Loben.] I believe 
Baron Graefflingen is one of your delegates to the Geneva 
Conference ? 

Loben. Yes, he heads the delegation ; our government 
is sending six representatives. [Motor-horn is heard; 
Loben goes to the window as before.] Here comes the 
Baron! [He looks out.] I'm wrong! It's Marquis 
Fallot and Count Andriev! 

MuiRHEAD. Count Andriev! 

Loben. Yes, Sir Mortimer. They are both expected. 

MuiRHEAD. [To Gilbert.] Have you seen nothing 
of M. D'Or? 

Gilbert. I asked before I came up. The attendants 
Informed me that he had taken a suite here at the hotel. 
[Enter Fallot and Andriev.] 

Fallot. Good afternoon, Sir Mortimer. [He nods 
slightly to the others.] You know Count Andriev? 

MuiRHEAD. I have the honor. [Andriev bows.] 
My secretar}', Mr. Gilbert — Herr Loben, secretary to 
Baron Graefflingen. 

Fallot. Are you familiar with the circumstances that 
bring us together to-day. Sir Mortimer? 

MuiRHEAD. I know absolutely nothing except that 
the note from Faris asks me to meet M. D'Or at three this 
afternoon. 

Andriev. My note read, ' M. D'Or of the house of 
Blaustein.' 

MuiRHEAD. Of course — mine also! [Laughing.] 



94 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Otherwise what claim would the gentleman have upon 
our attention? [Gilbert starts and avoids the grinning 
glance of LoBEN.] 

Fallot. I must say that I resent such a peremptory 
summons, coming from such a source; but there is no 
alternative, I understand — we must simply comply with 
the request. [Loben coughs, and watches Gilbert's 
tense face.] 

Andriev. We may as well be prepared for the Blau- 
stein message — it undoubtedly concerns the Geneva Con- 
ference of next week. [Motor-horn is heard again; 
Loben goes to the ivindow.~\ 

Loben. It is the Baron! 

MuiRHEAD. Graefflingen m\ay be bettef informed' than 
the rest of us. Perhaps he may be able to throw some 
light upon the very unusual procedure that brings us 
together. 

Fallot. I doubt it. The Blausteins rarely take any 
one into their confidence. They say nothing till they are 
ready to talk, but then — [Enter Graefflingen.] 

Graefflingen. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Am I 
late? [He shakes hands with the diplomats and nods to 
Gilbert.] M. D'Or has not yet appeared? 

M uiRH EAD. No. We've been counting on you, Baron, 
to tell us what it's all about. 

Graefflingen. I cannot speak with any authority, 
but from a dispatch received this morning I infer that the 
Blausteins are not pleased with certain details of the inter- 
national agreement that will probably be adopted at 
Geneva next week. 

Fallot. [Looking at his watch.'] I do not know how 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 95 

soon M. D'Or is likely to join us — but I believe it would 
be advisable among ourselves to oppose any material altera- 
tion in the Geneva agreement. 

MuiRHEAD. A united front might strengthen our 
position very much, if v^e only knew what particular part 
of the agreement the Blausteins are likely to assail. 

Andriev. I propose, gentlemen, that when M. D'Or 
arrives and explains the Blaustein views, we shall take 
the cue from one of our own number. I suggest Sir 
Mortimer as the leader of our united forces. 

Fallot. That seems to be most desirable. If we do 
not stand together there is not the least likelihood of our 
accomplishing much with M. D'Or. 

Graefflingen. I heartily concur in Count Andriev's 
proposal. We must keep the Blaustein emissary within 
bounds. 

MuiRHEAD. Gentlemen, I appreciate the honor that 
you are showing me. At present we are groping in the 
dark — we do not as yet know the intentions of M. D'Or. 
LoBEN. [fVarningly.] Sh— h!! [A pause. D'Or 
enters at the left, wearing an elaborate diplomatic uniform 
of black satin, with a broad gold band across his bosom.] 
D'Or. Good afternoon, gentlemen. [Looking about.] 
One hardly needs introduction to such a distinguished 
group. [He shakes hands.] Sir Mortimer, you are look- 
ing well — Baron Graefflingen — Marquis Fallot — Count 
Andriev. [He stops at the secretaries.] 

MuiRHEAD. Our secretaries, Mr. Gilbert and Herr 
Loben. 

D'Or. [Shaking their hands.] It gives me pleasure 
to welcome the future lights of diplomacy. 



96 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Graefflingen. Perhaps you prefer that our secre- 
taries retire during our conference? 

D'Or. Not at all, Baron — not at all. It will do the 
young men good to be present. 

Andriev. Are we safe from possible eavesdroppers? 

D'Or. [Rernejnberijig Claire.] Certainly, but we 
can assure ourselves by locking the doors. \^He locks the 
door J left J and the central doors. ~\ This door is always 
kept locked, I believe. \^He goes to the door, right, and 
very deliberately turns the knob several times. The others 
present seem satisfied.'] Shall we be seated? [They take 
seats at the central table, D'Or at the right end, then 
MuiRHEAD, Fallot, Andriev, and Graefflingen. 
Gilbert sits at the small table, right; Loben in the arm- 
chair, left.] Of course, we shall take no minutes of our 
deliberation — everything is informal and secret. 

Graefflingen. That is wise. This meeting must 
be regarded as absolutely confidential among ourselves. 

Andriev. I presume that it is agreed that no notes 
shall be taken by any one present — 

The Others. Certainly — assuredly. [Gilbert ^^^r/^ 
from his seat and stares ahead of him.] 

MuiRHEAD. What is the matter, Mr. Gilbert? 

Gilbert. Nothing, Sir Mortimer. Pardon me, I 
thought I heard a slight creaking noise. I was mistaken ! 
\^He resumes his seat. Throughout the scene Gilbert 
pays close attention, Loben twiddles his thumbs and 
yawns.] 

MuiRHEAD. [^To D'Or.] Have any others been in- 
vited, or is the group now complete? 

D'Or. Quite complete, I assure you, Sir Mortimer. 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 97 

I dislike dealing with a large group of men. A few sen- 
sible minds gathered around a table can best transact im- 
portant business. You have not been chosen at random, 
gentlemen. The Blausteins desired the leading figure in 
each delegation to be present to-day and I am happy to 
say that the choice has fallen upon you. 

Graefflingen. You are very complimentary, M. 
D'Or. 

D'Or. Not at all, my dear Baron. Men like your- 
self who are leaders in shaping the destinies of their coun- 
try are entitled to recognition and honor — but to come 
down to the immediate business of our meeting. You are 
all delegates to the Geneva Conference which assembles 
next week. Can you tell me, Sir Mortimer, what the 
convention is expected to accomplish ? 

MuiRHEAD. From the program, of which you may 
have seen a copy, it is evident that the principal purpose 
is to consider questions concerning international arbitration 
and to effect by general agreement a reduction of the 
active military forces maintained by our respective gov- 
ernments. 

D'Or. The first is a laudable object and I believe the 
Blausteins are in hearty accord with the project. As for 
the second — is such a reduction possible? 

MuiRHEAD. Not only possible, but very desirable; 
the military and naval budgets are the most serious prob- 
lems that concern our treasury ministers. 

Graefflingen. There is widespread dissatisfaction 

throughout Europe at the enormous appropriation of funds 

for military purposes. It is our thought that if the 

Geneva Conference cannot effect total disarmament, it 

7 



98 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

can at least bring about a material reduction in equipment 
for war. 

D'Or. It is proper that you should not misunderstand 
the attitude of the Blausteins toward this great question. 
They do not desire to foment strife among nations. As a 
matter of fact, they would not permit a European war at 
this time. 

Andriev. Would not permit a war ! Those are strong 
words, M. D'Or. 

D'Or. [Smoothly.'] None the less, the older diplomats 
present will assure Count Andriev that my words are not 
stronger than the case warrants. [He looks about. There 
is an aiukward pause.] I am sure the general silence Is the 
best proof of my assertion. 

Fallot. Pardon my remark, M. D'Or, but I cannot 
understand w^hy the Blausteins should deprecate warfare, 
yet at the same time insist that the nations maintain the 
highest military efficiency. 

D'Or. It was to explain just such matters as you have 
mentioned that our little meeting of this afternoon was 
arranged. There are certain things that cannot be openly 
discussed — 

MuiRHEAD. One moment, M. D'Or. Are you cer- 
tain that you do not wish our secretaries to retire before 
you go into details? 

D'Or. Assuredly not. Sir Mortimer. I particularly 
desire the young men to remain. Diplomacy has many 
valuable lessons to teach. Here they can learn some of 
them. 

Gilbert. [Rising.] I should much prefer to retire If — 

D'Or. Nonsense ! I want you to remain — I insist on 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 99 

it ! [Gilbert resu?nes his seat.'\ You are aware, gentle- 
men, of the extent to which the Blausteins hold the bonds 
of your respective governments, but there is another side 
to the story. A government does not borrow money 
except to spend it. Now, while It undoubtedly pays the 
Blausteins to lend you their gold, It pays them still better 
to become national contractors and purveyors, thus getting 
back much of the actual money with an added profit in 
the second transaction. 

Fallot. By which you mean — 

D'Or. Simply this, gentlemen. The Blausteins have 
secured control of your most Important gun factories, 
your powder works, your saltpeter and sulphur deposits, 
your mines. They control the firms that get most of the 
contracts for the erection of fortifications and for furnish- 
ing the munitions of war. In fact, they feed and clothe 
your soldiers, they supply the horses — 

MuiRHEAD. Can this be possible? 

D'Or. Why should it surprise you? Is It not the 
most natural thing In the world? The vast Blaustein 
millions cannot lie Idle In the vaults. Is there any wonder 
that with the accumulated surplus of three generations of 
shrewd financiering, this insuperable power reaches out 
into new fields to secure a firmer grasp upon the forces of 
civilization ? 

MuiRHEAD. M. D'Or, may I ask you to state pre- 
cisely what the Blausteins desire of us, as far as the Geneva 
Conference is concerned? 

D'Or. Assuredly, Sir Mortimer. The Blausteins are 
aware that the Geneva Conference will be watched with 
interest throughout the civilized world; the press will 
report Its proceedings In detail — 



loo Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Andriev. [Drily.] But not these proceedings — here, 
to-day ! 

D'Or. No, that would never do. We must not give 
the rabble an opportunity to peer behind the scenes; it 
might interfere with the public performance. The Geneva 
Conference is presumably a gathering to foster universal 
peace. 

Graefflingen. Presumably! 

D'Or. Certainly, my dear Baron! Can anyone pre- 
dict what such a gathering will accomplish until the 
powers have sat in judgment upon it? 

Fallot. And we are here to get the verdict of the 
real powers and to settle the fate of the Geneva Confer- 
ence a full week before it begins ! 

D'Or. You are unnecessarily bitter, gentlemen. I am 
surprised to find such strange ideals in a group of expe- 
rienced diplomats. This is no fairy-tale world in which 
we are living — it is still the same old, wicked, scandalous 
and hopeless Europe that it has always been. 

MuiRHEAD. I am afraid, M. D'Or, that you are 
being drawn away from the answer to my question — 

D'Or. Thank you, Sir Mortimer — these idealists always 
make trouble. Now, to the point. What the Blausteins 
particularly desire is that the Geneva Conference shall 
not give the journalists a chance to become rampant. 
Most of those vexatious pests are subsidized, but there are 
always reckless fellows who have nothing to lose and who 
are ready to court notoriety upon the slightest pretext. 
The Blausteins therefore want a triumphant victory of 
the peace party at Geneva. 

The Others. [Astounded.] The peace party! 



Ill Monsieur D'Or loi 

D'Or. You misunderstand me. They want you to 
talk peace, to sing peace, to shout peace till you are ex- 
hausted. They want you to recommend measures advis- 
ing partial reduction of military equipment and eventual 
disarmament in all countries, but at the same time they 
want it distinctly understood by all that not one of those 
recommendations is to be carried out at present. Just 
give each journalistic dog his bone to gnaw, and when all 
is over, things will go on as they are. 

MuiRHEAD. [Seriously.] Then what you suggest, M. 
D'Or, is that we should go through the farce of gathering 
at Geneva next week as the ostensible delegates of our 
respective governments, that we should adopt those splendid 
measures that appeal to all of us, and then, to please the 
Blausteins, we should nullify the work of the Conference 
by permitting its recommendations to become a dead letter ! 
It is no trifle that you ask of us ! 

Andriev. [H^armly,] Trifle! He is asking us to 
become the Blaustein puppets! Are we here to take his 
orders ? 

D'Or. [Smoothly.'] No, no. Count Andriev — not 
orders. I am not here to issue any orders, least of all to 
such eminent diplomats as you. I am simply telling you 
what the Blausteins desire ; the rest I leave in your hands. 
Perhaps some day you will better understand the signifi- 
cance of the name of Blaustein! [Gilbert springs up 
with a cry and with clenched fists stands quivering before 
D'Or, who has also risen. Muirhead quickly steps be- 
tween them.] 

Muirhead. Mr. Gilbert, you forget your place ! You 
owe M. D'Or an apology. [The others have risen.] 



I02 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Gilbert. [Tensely. '\ I — I could not control myself, 
Sir Mortimer — 

D'Or. [Suavely.'] Pray do not take this seriously, 
Sir Mortimer. Your secretary owes me no apology. He 
did a very natural thing — I respect him for It. [Gilbert 
drops heavily into his chair holding his head in his hands. 
D'Or watches him curiously. The rest resu?ne their 
seats. IjOee^ twiddles his thumbs.] Of course, It Is very 
unpleasant — this mission of mine. You can readily see 
that the Blaustelns must protect their Interests. We are 
showing you how^ you can satisfy the clamors of your 
people and silence the criticism of your newspapers by 
ostensibly complying with the popular demand. After 
all, the execution of your recommendations rests with 
others ; you will do your duty at the conference. 

Andriev. Do you Imagine that the people will tolerate 
this sort of trickery forever? 

D'Or. Why not? The government that cannot con- 
trol Its masses by throwing them an occasional sop Is a 
confessed failure — It deserves to fall. Count Andriev, 
your civic authorities have a most efficient ally in that 
universal force known as human nature. When your 
aristocrats engage against the rabble in that great game 
of skill popularly known as maintaining the government 
it is your own fault if you do not win ; the dice are always 
loaded in your favor. 

Andriev. Suppose we should refuse to be parties to 
your plan? 

D'Or. [Looking around.] If you personally are eager 
to defy the Blaustelns, you will probably find that the rest 
of the gentlemen present are not similarly inclined. [An 
uneasy silence.] 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 103 

Andriev. [Bitterly. 1 Evidently, you are right ! Heaven 
help the nations that have to take orders from the Blau- 
steins! Is there anything further, M. D'Or? 

D'Or. Nothing except that I wish to express my thanks 
to all of you for meeting me here this afternoon. I hope 
that we part as friends? 

Fallot. Assuredly, M. D'Or. We must remember 
that you are merely the representative of the Blaustelns 
and in no sense personally responsible for the policy which 
they have adopted. It would be absurd to harbor any 
personal resentment against you. [Offers his hand.] I 
wish you good afternoon! 

Andriev. [Likewise shakes hands. ~\ I have used hard 
words here this afternoon — they were intended for the 
Blaustelns, not for M. D'Or. Good-day! [D'Or un- 
locks the central doorSj and Fallot and Andriev go off 
together.~\ 

D'Or. [To Graefflingen.] Well, Baron, are you 
as kindly disposed as these others? [They shake hands. 
He turns to Loben.] I suppose you have learned a new 
lesson in the science of diplomacy ? 

Loben. [Wearily.'] Bless you, no indeed! I have 
been in diplomacy for seventeen years; I have become 
hardened to such incidents as this. It's getting a bit 
monotonous. I wish there were some new forms of polit- 
ical corruption — they might prove interesting! 

D'Or. I congratulate you. Baron, on your very blase 
secretary. Such a man must be a treasure In your pro- 
fession. 

Graefflingen. Good afternoon, M. D'Or. [To 
Muirhead.] Sir Mortimer, do you remain at Interlaken ? 



I04 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

MuiRHEAD. No, I leave for Lucerne this evening. I 
shall spend a few days at the Kaiser ho f before going to 
Geneva. 

Graefflingen. I was about to ask you to dine with 
me. I am sorry you are leaving so soon. Good after- 
noon! [LoBEN has meanwhile shaken hands with Gil- 
bert and clapped him on the shoulder as a sign of appro- 
val. Gilbert stands in dejection. Graefflingen and 
LoBEN pass out together.'] 

MuiRHEAD. In taking leave, M. D'Or, I still feel 
that Mr. Gilbert owes you an explanation for his very 
remarkable conduct. I am sorry the incident happened. 

D'Or. [After a pause.] Perhaps you are right, Sir 
Mortimer. Won't you permit Mr. Gilbert to remain for 
a few moments when you go? We can talk the matter 
over between ourselves. 

MuiRHEAD. Mr. Gilbert, you hear what M. D'Or 
has said. You may rejoin me later at the hotel. Good 
day. [They shake hands and Muirhead goes off.] 

D'Or. [Very pleasantly.] Mr. Gilbert, Sir Mortimer 
has made it easy for me to have a confidential chat with 
you. I am indebted to him for it. I had no idea when 
I entered this room that I should meet such an interesting 
personality as yourself. 

Gilbert. Sir Mortimer is right. I owe you an apology 
and I make it freely. I should have known my place. 

D'Or. That is not the point. I want to know why 
you made that outcry? 

Gilbert. I would rather not answer that question. 

D'Or. I feel as if I have a right to insist upon an 
answer, Mr. Gilbert. 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 105 

Gilbert. Perhaps you have. May I give the expla- 
nation in my own way? 

D*Or. By all means! Let us sit down. [They take 
seats J centre.] Do you smoke? [He offers a cigar.] 

Gilbert. No, thank you. [D'Or lights his own 
cigar.] M. D'Or, I sought the appointment as Sir Morti- 
mer's secretary because I believed it would prove an open- 
ing to a diplomatic career. 

D'Or. Quite right — a very good opening! 

Gilbert. At that time I regarded diplomacy as my 
life-work. I dreamed of participating In the great affairs 
of state, of helping In my own small way to mould the 
history of our own day and generation. The diplomat 
seemed to be so important a figure, so essentially a ser- 
vant of the state that I was dazzled at the thought of 
serving my country in that way. And now — [He pauses.] 

D'Or. Now you think otherwise? 

Gilbert. Until to-day I regarded Sir Mortimer Mulr- 
head as one of the most enviable of men. Now I pity 
him — from the bottom of my heart. Kindly stop me If I 
offend — 

D'Or. Go on. I want to hear all you have to say. 

Gilbert. I learned this afternoon how hopelessly a 
man may be fettered in his efforts to serve his fellow men. 
To an experienced man like yourself It must be apparent 
how unfit I am for the profession I have chosen. 

D'Or. Why were you so distressed to-day? 

Gilbert. Picture a group of distinguished diplomats, 
representing the leading nations of Europe, gathered in 
secret conclave to hear the commands of a coterie of money- 
barons, and, what is worse, yielding to those commands in 



io6 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

spite of their own convictions! It is enough to make 
one's blood boil! 

D'Or. You forget, Mr. Gilbert, that they are prac- 
tical men of affairs. They know the power of the money- 
barons, as you choose to call them, and they act accord- 
ingly. A modern nation cannot afford to entrust its 
affairs to idealists and dreamers. 

Gilbert. Apparently not; but what of the national 
honor ? Do these secret compromises never become public ? 
What can the reputable people of a great nation think 
when its rulers stoop to curry favor with the rich and 
powerful ? 

D'Or. My young friend, you have a distorted image 
in your mind ; I advise you to set it right. Who are your 
reputable people who are to cavil at those who seek wealth 
or the influence that wealth affords? How many of your 
apparently reputable people are not themselves engaged in 
the pursuit of wealth by every method, direct or devious, 
that lies within their power? Look about you, Mr. Gil- 
bert, and examine your fellow man a little more closely. 
Don't place him on a pedestal. He's a corrupt specimen 
of creation when you get to know him thoroughly. 

Gilbert. [Hotly.l What makes him corrupt but the 
fact that there are forces of evil abroad to tempt him — 

D'Or. [Smiling.] Like myself, for example? 

Gilbert. Some men are not strong enough to resist 
temptation. You know that, M. D'Or. The shame of 
it is that men like you take advantage of it. 

D'Or. Nonsense, Mr. Gilbert. We corrupt none of 
them. If need be we ascertain the price of their corrup- 
tion, but there our responsibility ends. The work of the 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 107 

world must be accomplished. We cannot have men pull- 
ing in all directions at once. There must be some har- 
mony of action to achieve results. If any one impedes the 
progress of a great plan, it is policy to buy him off; if he 
refuses to yield he must be swept out of the way. Usually 
he is too wise to resist — he takes his price and withdraws 
gracefully. The world is waiting to be bought. 

Gilbert. There is one thing I cannot understand, M. 
D'Or — why do you tell me these things ? 

D'Or. Because I take an interest in you. I should 
like to see you make something of your career. A few 
moments ago there were four prominent diplomats in this 
room who did me the honor to confer upon the important 
question that you heard discussed, yet for this quartette 
of notables I have infinitely less respect than I have for 
you. I took real pleasure in your outburst of disapproval. 

Gilbert. But they all opposed you, particularly Count 
Andriev. 

D'Or. Yes, but they all yielded at last — that is the 
fact that makes them contemptible in my eyes. Mr. Gil- 
bert, may I ask what salary Sir Mortimer pays you for 
acting as his secretary? 

Gilbert. Five hundred pounds. 

D'Or. If I were to offer you a thousand pounds to 
become my secretary, would you accept? 

Gilbert. No ! 

D'Or. If I were to make it five thousand pounds, 
would you listen to the offer? 

Gilbert. No, M. D'Or! 

D'Or. If I were to discover that the Blausteins needed 
an eminently trustworthy agent and that you fulfilled the 



io8 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

requirements exactly, would you consider a salary of ten 
thousand pounds? 

Gilbert. Never ! 

D'Or. [Puffing his cigar, coolly.] I knew It ! That's 
why you Interest me — you are a human curiosity. A few, 
years ago I was ready to declare there were no such men 
In existence. Remember, I have not Insulted you by 
really making the offer that I put just now. I pride 
myself that I read your character aright and knew the 
offer would be rejected. 

Gilbert. Are such offers ever made seriously? 

D'Or. Certainly, If the man Is worth It. Such mat- 
ters are always subject to the dictates of reason. 

Gilbert. I now realize the source of your overwhelm- 
ing power. I have learned something from this Interview 
— I shall not give up diplomacy. 

D'Or. Will you remain Sir Mortimer's secretary? 

Gilbert. Yes, for the present. If I am one of the 
few of whom you speak so highly, my country needs me 
and I Intend to remain In her service. 

D'Or. [Smiling.1 There speaks the patriot! Be 
careful, my friend, to avoid tight places, so that you may 
not have to yield to the tempter one of these days. [They 
rise.] May I wish you success In your career? [He ex- 
tends his hand.] 

Gilbert. [Painfully.] M. D'Or, I don't want to 
Insult you again — but — I'd rather not shake your hand. 

D'Or. [With assumed indifference.] Just as you 
wish — It Is better that we should understand each other 
exactly. Perhaps I should feel offended, but I don't — 
I'm not going to quarrel with you. I wish you success 



Ill Monsieur D'Or 109 

just the same. You may be right, after all — you young 
fellows have a great deal of enthusiasm. There ought to 
be more like you. 

Gilbert. [Eagerly.'] M. D'Or, there's a real strain 
of good In you — why don't you give It a chance? 

D'Or. [Uneasily.] I may change my mind some day. 
If I do, I shall remember you, Mr. Gilbert — 

Gilbert. [Seizes D'Or's hand and looks squarely in 
his eyes,] I hope so, M. D'Or — I hope so! Good-bye! 
[He goes out.] 

D'Or. [Places his cigar on the table and looks toward 
the central door.] I'd give my fortune for that man's out- 
look on life! [Claire enters silently at the right, hold- 
ing her notes in her hand. She looks curiously at D'Or.] 

Claire. Well — there are some honorable people, after 
all! 

D'Or. [Turning quickly.] What! I must confess I 
had quite forgotten that you were In the next room. You 
heard everything? 

Claire. [Drily.] Yes — and profited by It, too! 

D'Or. You have a verbatim report? 

Claire. Everything; even your Interesting little chat 
with Mr. Gilbert. 

D'Or. See here, mademoiselle — that has no place in 
the report. Kindly let me have those sheets. 

Claire. Never fear, M. D'Or — the Blaustelns will 
never see any part of this report? 

D'Or. What do you mean! 

Claire. I Intend to destroy every line that I wrote In 
that room. I heard what Mr. Gilbert said. I will no 
longer be the servile spy of the Blaustelns ! 



no Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. [With a sneer.] Ah! Virtue seems to be con- 
tagious. 

Claire. There are always immunes. 

D'Or. Your tongue has not lost its cunning, in spite 
of your moral awakening. So you won't let me have the 
notes ? 

Claire. Not unless you take them by force. [With 
determination,] I warn you, I shall not give them up 
tamely. 

D'Or. Calm yourself. You forget the Blaustein maxim, 
'Above all things, no public scandal.' I shall not make 
the least effort to obtain those notes without your consent. 

Claire. Thank you. May I go? 

D'Or. [Eaj'nestly.] Mile. Lasalle, I will give you 
five thousand francs for those notes. 

Claire. [Frightened.] Please let me pass ! 

D'Or. Ten thousand francs — for the notes. 

Claire. How dare you! [A pause.] Remember Mr. 
Gilbert! 

D'Or. [With a start, then quietly.] Mademoiselle, 
will you give me those notes at your own price if I promise 
to destroy them — now, here, before your eyes ? 

Claire. [After a pause.] I shall give them to you on 
one condition. 

D'Or. Name it. 

Claire. [Slowly.] That you don't ask me to touch 
any more Blaustein money. I'm trying to do a decent 
thing this time. 

D'Or. [With admiration.] I understand. You have 
my promise. [Claire fixes her gaze on D'Or, and hands 
over the sheets. He keeps his eyes on her as he tears the 



Ill Monsieur D'Or in 

notes into tiny scraps which fall on the table. He gathers 
up the scraps and throws them into the fire.~\ 

Claire. [Earnestly.'] We two are not entirely hopeless. 

D'Or. [Still gazing at her.] Not after this! 

Claire. We are not likely to meet again. I am going 
to some remote corner of the earth — to try to forget the 
past. The Blausteins shall never hear of me again. Let 
us make one good resolution before we part. 

D'Or. What shall it be? 

Claire. Let us both try to remember Mr. Gilbert! 

D'Or. I shall never forget Mr. Gilbert — [Extending 
his hand.] nor Mile. Claire Lasalle, stenographer! 

Claire. [Taking his hand.] Good-bye, M. D'Or! 
[She hurries out at the centre. D'Or looks after her for 
a moment, then snatches the gold band from across his 
bosom and dashes it on the table with a gesture of disgust. 
He drops into a chair as the curtain falls.] 



SCENE IV 

[A sojtibre, darkly furnished room in a Balkan palace. 
There are wooden panels and heavy gold hangings; also 
a window, left, a door, right, and large double doors, 
centre. At the left there is a table on which is a lamp 
with a dull gold shade. Nearby are an armchair, a foot- 
rest and a smaller chair. At the right there is a small table 
with two chairs. Against the walls are several quaint 
high-backed chairs and a curious medieval stove. As the 
curtain rises, D'Or is in the armchair asleep. He wears 
a dark dressing gown with deep gold borders and em- 
broidery. He still has his gold rings. The window at 
the left is open and from the outside come the plaintive 
notes of a shepherd's pipe. The light is that of early 
evening. Edith Packard, dressed as a nurse, enters at 
the right. She feels D'Or's pulse and tiptoes noiselessly 
about. She places fresh golden flowers in a vase on the 
smaller table, then lights the lamp at the larger table and 
turns the flame low. After tidying the room a bit, she 
takes another look at D'Or, feels his forehead lightly and 
goes off, right. The shepherd's pipe is silenced. There 
is a sudden flash of lightning at the open window and the 
distant rumble of thunder.^ 

D'Or. [In his sleep.'] Not Death! Not Death! I've 
bought off Death for a time! Not yet! [He awakes 
with a start.] Miss Packard! I've been dreaming hor- 
ribly again! [He looks about anxiously.] Miss Packard! 
Has Dr. Mirsky arrived ? [Listens for reply.] They take 

112 



IV Monsieur D'Or 113 

my money, yet they're not here when I need them most. 
[He experiences a convulsive spasm and is unable to articu- 
late Miss Packard's name, though he makes a painful 
effort to do so. He rises heavily from his chair and stag- 
gers to the bell rope near the door, right. He manages to 
pull it and falls in a faint over the chair standing near. 
Lightning and distant thunder. Edith rushes in and rubs 
his wrists. He revives and she succeeds in getting him to 
the table, right. ^ 

D'Or. [Bewildered.] Where am I ? Yes — I remem- 
ber — I called — 

Edith. You were sleeping peacefully when I left the 
room a moment ago ! 

D'Or. Not peacefully ! I never sleep peacefully. 

Edith. Do you feel any better? 

D'Or. Worse — much worse! How long did I sleep? 

Edith. Over three hours. It Is past six o'clock. 

D'Or. Evening already ! Another day gone ! [Lightning. 
Edith starts to close the zvindow. It thunders as she 
looks out.] 

Edith. Oh! M. D'Or, a terrible storm Is approach- 
ing! The whole valley Is filled with black clouds! 
[Lightning.] 

D'Or. Close that window quickly! I cannot bear 
lightning. [She closes it amid thunder.] Another storm! 
I shall lie awake all night! [Groans.] Hasn't Dr. 
MIrsky arrived ? 

Edith. No, he has not come. Perhaps the storm will 
prevent his getting here to-night. 

D'Or. I must see the doctor — he must come to-night ! 
He takes my money ; he should be at my beck and call. I 
8 



114 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

need him now — I may die before morning. Is there no 
one at the palace whom you can send to the village? 
[Heavy thunder J] 

Edith. Cyril is downstairs. 

D'Or. The gardener's son? I'll not send the boy on 
such a night as this. Perhaps Mirsky will get here after 
all. 

Edith. He should come. 

D'Or. I pay him well enough, eh? I pay you well, 
Miss Packard? I pay everybody well. I may be feeble, 
but I still have my gold. It serves me yet! [Thunder. ~\ 

Edith. Do you care for something to eat? 

D'Or. No, I have no appetite. I am an unhappy 
creature. Turn up the lamp, Miss Packard — it is too 
gloomy. I can scarcely see. [She turns up the lamp. 
D'Or notices the flowers.~\ Why are those wilted flowers 
on the table? 

Edith. They do seem wilted — yet they were quite 
fresh when I brought them in a few minutes ago. [Thun- 
der.l Perhaps the storm — 

D'Or. Nonsense! A storm cannot affect cut flowers! 
They must have been dying when you brought them in. 
[Raises their drooping heads.] Dying ! Dying — their golden 
beauty waning — a few hours more and all will be over! 
[Groans.~\ I must see Mirsky! I feel wretched to-night. 
Look down the road, Miss Packard, and see if there are 
any signs of the doctor's carriage. He would not come 
on foot to-night. [Edith opens the window. Lightning 
and a wild blast of wind. D'Or covers his eyes and 
groans.] 

Edith. [Peering out.] It is too dark to see far — but 
the road seems quite deserted. [Thunder.] 



IV Monsieur D'Or 115 

D'Or. Quick! Close the window ! [Edith ^0^5 ^0.] 
Even Mirsky fails me when I need him most. He shall 
hear from me to-morrow — [A pause.'] if I am still alive. 
Have you had your dinner? 

Edith. No, but there's no hurry — I do not wish to 
leave you alone. 

D'Or. Get your dinner by all means. You are young 
and healthy — you can enjoy it. Send up Cyril to keep 
me company ; I like the boy. 

Edith. Very well. Is there nothing else I can do 
for you? 

D'Or. [More softly.] Nothing, Miss Packard. You 
are very kind to me. Are you satisfied in this Balkan 
wilderness? Am I paying you enough for coming to this 
desolate region? 

Edith. Don't say such things. I am a nurse — it is 
my duty to serve you. Besides, you have been very gen- 
erous to me. 

D'Or. Thank you. Run along now — and don't for- 
get to send up Cyril. [She goes o.ff, centre. D'Or looks 
nervously about him, holds his hand over his heart, then 
draws himself slowly up and goes to the window to peer 
out. Seeing nothing he opens it. A furious downpour 
of rain is heard, then a flash of lightning half-blinds him. 
He closes the window with a loud bang.] No hope of 
Mirsky to-night. Even my money won't bring him out 
on such a night as this. [He walks slowly to the arm- 
chair.] If he does not come, I shall be dead before sunrise ! 

Cyril. [Putting in his head, centre.] May I come in, 
M. D'Or? 



ii6 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. [^Brightening.'] Cyril! By all means! Come 
in, my boy! [^He resumes his seat,'] 

Cyril. Miss Packard said you wouldn't be angry. 

D'Or. I am very glad to see you. What have you 
been doing all day? 

Cyril. I have been exploring along the other side of 
the river. I left the palace this morning at five o'clock 
and joined some boys in the village. We tramped for 
several miles along the river, then crossed the bridge at 
Arak and went into the woods. 

D'Or. It must have been delightful. You started at 
five o'clock? 

Cyril. Yes, it was still dark. I saw the sun rise 
from the Hadderberg. By dinner time we were over ten 
miles beyond Arak. 

D'Or. How did you get home so quickly? 

Cyril. Oh ! we saw the storm coming — at first it was 
a little speck of black cloud floating far off in the sky be- 
yond the mountain range. We hurried through the woods 
and reached home a half-hour ago. 

D'Or. You must have had a glorious tramp. Did 
you do any hunting? 

Cyril. Oh no! The season has not opened yet — we 
shall go hunting later on. M. D'Or, did you ever take 
such trips when you were a boy? [Rumbling thunder.] 

D'Or. No, I never had such sport. I didn't live near 
the mountains and the forests. 

Cyril. [Sits on the foot rest at D'Or's feet.] How 
do the boys in your country spend their time? 

D'Or. The most sensible spend their time in learning 
how to make money. 



IV Monsieur D'Or 117 

Cyril. Do they need much money when they grow up ? 

D'Or. Nearly all of them think they need more than 
they have. 

Cyril. What do they buy with their money ? 

D'Or. Whatever they think they want. What would 
you buy if you had twenty florins? 

Cyril. A pair of hunting boots and a new knife. 
[He pulls out his kmfe.'\ Not a cheap knife, like this 
one — but one with six silver bands on the handle. 

D'Or. Why six bands? 

Cyril. Because my friend Boris has one with five 
bands and his knife is the finest In the village. 

D'Or. Ah ! I see ! And what would you buy If you 
had fifty florins? 

Cyril. Fifty florins! [After a pause.'] I wouldn't 
buy anything. I'd save until I had a hundred. 

D'Or. [Interested.'] And then — 

Cyril. Then I w^ould buy a handsome rifle such as I 
saw In a shop window In Buda-Pesth. Were you ever in 
Buda-Pesth? 

D'Or. Yes, Cyril. I've seen those fine shops. Now, 
isn't it pleasant to think that you can go Into such a shop 
with a pocket full of money and pick out anything you 
want? 

Cyril. Yes — it's like a fairy-tale. 

D'Or. [Drily.] Well, that's why the boys In my 
country learn how to make money ! 

Cyril. [With enthusiasm.] And when they have It, 
they go to the shops and buy what they wanted ? 

D'Or. No ; by that time they have usually lost interest 
in what they wanted — and then they desire something 
which they cannot buy. 



ii8 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

Cyril. Then it isn't much fun after all? 

D'Or. [Stroking Cyril's hair.] No, it isn't much fun. 
You have something better than money, Cyril. You have 
youth and health — be careful how you spend them. You 
wouldn't sell them at any price, would you? 

Cyril. How can one sell youth, M. D'Or? 

D'Or. By doing foolish things and by wasting the 
precious hours of early manhood — that is how one sells 
youth. I want you to realize how very rich you are, 
even if you haven't enough money to buy that new rifle. 
[The noise of carriage wheels is heard.] Do you hear a 
carriage? Can it be Dr. Mirsky, after all? 

Cyril. [Opens the window.] Yes, it is the doctor — 
and another man with him in a long white robe — a strange- 
looking man! 

D'Or. You see very well in the dark, Cyril ! 

Cyril. I have good eyes; father calls them forester's 
eyes. 

D'Or. Is it still raining? 

Cyril. [Puts out his hand.] A little, but the worst 
is over. The clouds are breaking. 

D'Or. I am glad of it; you may leave the window 
open. [Enter Mirsky at centre.] 

Mirsky. Good evening, M. D'Or! I'm a bit late 
to-night on account of this cursed storm — I never expe- 
rienced such weather before. The road to the palace is 
a veritable river! At every turn a fresh torrent bursts 
over it. How do you feel? 

D'Or. Fairly well since Cyril has been keeping me 
company, but I felt miserable before — I feared you would 
not come. 



IV Monsieur D'Or 119 

MiRSKY. Not come for such a patron as M. D'Or! 
My dear sir, I would have come if it had been necessary 
to swim to the palace ! 

Cyril. [Laughing,] People don't swim up hills, Dr. 
Mirsky. 

MiRSKY. No, and well-behaved boys don't make im- 
pertinent remarks to their elders. 

D'Or. Cyril tells me you had a companion in your 
carriage. 

MiRSKY. Yes — the queerest fellow I've ever come 
across. I picked him up on the road just beyond the vil- 
lage. He had sought shelter under a tree but I saw he 
would be drenched if he remained there long enough — to 
say nothing of the danger from lightning. He's a sort of 
oriental sage — calls himself Ramanand. I expect to take 
him back to the village when I leave and have a chat with 
him to-night. 

D'Or. I am interested in your find ! Can't we have 
him up here? 

Mirsky. I turned him over to Miss Packard — I 
believe he is drying out at the kitchen fire. Cyril, run 
along and fetch up the philosopher. 

Cyril. [Meekly.'] Very well, doctor. I hope you 
will forgive me for my impertinence just now — 

Mirsky. [Clapping his shoulder.] Impertinence, my 
boy? It was the truth. As you say, people do not swim 
up hill. [Cyril laughs and runs off, centre. Mirsky 
turns to D'Or.] Well, how is my patient? [Feels his 
pulse.] Still feverish and unsettled— appetite poor— all 
out of sorts, eh? 



I20 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. Doctor, I feel like a man whose life is ebbing 
away. I had a horrible seizure this evening. It's all up 
with me. I've been burning the candle at both ends all 
my life. I have crowded more experience into my forty 
years than properly belongs there — that's all! 

MiRSKY. My dear M. D'Or, you talk like a man 
who is preparing for another world, yet you are paying 
me handsomely to keep you here. One can hardly regard 
such remarks as complimentary — 

D'Or. True enough, doctor, but there's no power of 
resistance left in me. I've been fighting Death for some 
time and now I have only one real weapon left — 

MiRSKY. [^Surprised.'] One weapon? 

D'Or. Yes, my money! Youth and health are gone, 
and I have long since turned my back upon my few friends 
— but my money is still my faithful slave. It has provided 
me this airy retreat in the Balkans, It has brought me 
such a devoted nurse as Miss Packard, such a skilful physi- 
cian as yourself — 

MiRSKY. Come, come — I'm not so sordid! A true 
physician thinks first of the professional obligation. 

D'Or. But a successful doctor does not give up a 
lucrative practice In Buda-Pesth to bury himself In the 
mountains with a solitary patient unless the latter pays 
handsomely, eh? 

MiRSKY. It Is true that you are giving me many times 
what I could earn by my practice, but why do you con- 
stantly remind me of it ? 

D'Or. I don't want to offend you, doctor — but I like 
to feel that my money Is still helping me to keep Death at 
bay. I have gone through life believing that wealth Is 



IV Monsieur D'Or 121 

power and I want to think so yet. Don't you share that 
belief? 

MiRSKY. Frankly, I do. I have even coined a new 
beatitude — blessed Is the rich man, since he can have what 
he wants ! 

D'Or. [Gravely.'] Not always — I have found that 
out. I want health, vigor, an Interest In life. 

MiRSKY. Your money would obtain any of these If 
you gave It a fair chance. You are sated, that is all — 

D'Or. It Is worse than that. I'm worn out — done 
for! 

MiRSKY. M. D'Or, you are absolutely wrong. I can- 
not comprehend your passive yielding to this chronic in- 
validism. You harm not only yourself, but me likewise — 
professionally, I mean. I shall be quite frank with you. 
My reputation is at stake. All Buda-Pesth knows that 
I am treating the rich M. D'Or. If I restore you to 
health, my fortune is assured! I shall no longer be the 
promising Dr. MIrsky In his shabby carriage — I shall 
become the famous Dr. MIrsky In his automobile. Do 
you realize what it means to me? 

D'Or. So you wish me to get well for your sake? 

MiRSKY. Certainly, If you have no reasons of your 
own. I pretend to no philanthropy In the matter. You 
are paying me lavishly, M. D'Or — give me a chance to 
earn the money. 

D'Or. [Shaking his head.] You've taken a bad case, 
doctor — I'm sorry for you. You'll have your money and 
the automobile In any event. Of course, you expect to 
find greater happiness In becoming more prominent In your 
profession ? 



122 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

MiRSKY. Yes, both happiness and reputation. I look 
upon it as a recompense for my early years of struggle. 

D'Or. You had to make your own way? 

MiRSKY. My father was a poor village shoemaker; 
my mother eked out his Income by what she could earn at 
washing and sewing. I was the youngest of five children. 

D'Or. And the others? 

MiRSKY. They were all sacrificed for my sake. They 
are hard-working men and women to-day. My parents 
died before I achieved Independence In my profession. I 
should like to help my brothers and sisters, but they refuse 
my aid. 

D'Or. Perhaps you don't offer them enough. 

MiRSKY. M. D'Or, they have pride ! They feel that 
an unfair advantage was given to me — and they are right ! 

D'Or. I fail to see it. This was clearly a case of 
one rising from the depths, or none at all. If they have 
pride, they should take pride In you. 

MiRSKY. It has made a permanent breach between us, 
I fear. 

D'Or. And they will feel even more bitter when you 
return to Buda-Pesth and ride about in your new auto- 
mobile? 

MiRSKY. [Gloomily.'] Yes, I have been thinking of 
that. If I could only drive them from my mind! 

D'Or. Yet you look forward to happiness! Is there 
no way of making wealth obedient to our desires? 

Cyril. [Putting in his head at central door as before.'] 
May I bring in Mr. Ramanand? 

D'Or. Certainly — I shall be glad to see him. [Cyril 
throws the door open and Ramanand enters in stately 
fashion, garbed in an oriental robe.] 



IV Monsieur D'Or 123 

MiRSKY. Ah! Ramanand, quite dry now? I want 
to present you to M. D'Or, the tenant of this palace and 
my worthy patron. He has heard of our meeting on the 
road. 

Ramanand. [With a profound bow, speaks in a deep, 
rich voice.'] My salutations and greetings, monsieur. I 
am indebted to you for your hospitality. 

D'Or. Won't you be seated? [Ramanand takes a 
seat, right, Cyril sits on the foot rest.] I trust they made 
you comfortable downstairs. Didn't you sufifer in the 
storm ? 

Ramanand. A slight wetting — no more. I am ac- 
customed to rough weather. I travel constantly on foot. 
It is no hardship for such as I. 

MiRSKY. Are you familiar with this country ? 

Ramanand. No. I am on my way to the West, to 
study the civilization of other lands. I have read of them 
and their manners; I now seek to know them by actual 
experience. 

D'Or. You have doubtless traveled far enough to find 
things different? 

Ramanand. Yes, I already feel the mark of the West 
in your customs. In the East, all things are deliberate and, 
whether right or wrong, rest upon traditions handed down 
from the remotest ages. Here you strive for things that 
are new and you are ever ready to forget the old. 

D'Or. But why do you follow such a roving life? Is 
there any profit in it? Will you be better off when you 
have completed your travels ? 

Ramanand. There is much profit in it — I shall en- 
rich my mind with golden thought — 



124 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. But does It enrich your purse with golden coin 
— that's more to the point! 

Ramanand. Money ! It is a delusion ! 

MiRSKY. A delusion? 

Ramanand. {^Placidly.'] Yes. Has it ever proved 
otherwise ? 

D'Or. Why, It brings power, the thing best worth 
having In life, 

Ramanand. It brings mostly care and sorrow. 

MiRSKY. Did you ever hear such a philosophy? 

D'Or. l^To Cyril.] Cyril, you recall speaking to me 
this evening of a new rifle ? 

Cyril. Yes, M. D'Or. 

D'Or. We shall send to Buda-Pesth to-morrow for 
that rifle and when It arrives It Is yours. 

Cyril. [Leaping up in pleasure and kissing D'Or's 
hand.] Oh! dear M. D'Or, you are like a good magician 
In the story-books! 

D'Or. [To Ramanand.] And the agency of such 
happiness as this you call a delusion ! Where's your care 
and sorrow? 

Ramanand. [STuiling.] You are a ready man with 
your proof. No one can deny the momentary exaltation 
that follows a gift or a favor, nor do I believe that grati- 
tude Is a forgotten virtue. But look about you, and note 
what a curse wealth has brought upon humanity. 

MiRSKY. I should not care to entertain the philosophy 
of the East. 

Ramanand. Mine is not the philosophy of the East. 
We also have the worship of gold among us and Its 



IV Monsieur D'Or 125 

devotees lead the same blind lives in its pursuit as your 
own people. The views I express are my own. 

D'Or. Then you really believe that the poor man is 
the happiest man? 

Ramanand. Yes, if he is not possessed by the lust for 
gold. 

MiRSKY. And the rich man is the unhappiest man ? 

Ramanand. Yes, if he is the slave of his own wealth. 

D'Or. Rail against wealth if you will — I maintain 
that poverty has nothing to recommend it. 

Ramanand. [Reflectively.'] I too sought material 
wealth as a young man and I gained nothing but care ; for 
many years I have cherished poverty and my days are 
crowned with peace. I ask no better test of my philosophy. 

MiRSKY. If you are satisfied, you have reached a state 
of mind that neither M. D'Or nor I shall ever experience. 
[Edith enters, centre; Mirsky and Ramanand rise.'] 

Edith. Pardon me — I have come to tell Cyril that 
his father is ready to take him back to the lodge. 

Cyril. [Leaping up and running to the window.] 
Oh ! it is clearing up beautifully — the moon will rise soon. 
I suppose I'll have to go. [He shakes hands.] Good 
night, Dr. Mirsky. [He stands abashed before Rama- 
nand.] Good night, Mr. Ramanand. 

Ramanand. [Stroking Cyril's hair as if invoking a 
blessing on the boy.] Good night, Cyril. 

Cyril. Good night, M. D'Or. Shall I pray that you 
should get better? 

D'Or. [Surprised.] Should you pray— why— yes, if 
you care to. 

Cyril. You won't forget about the new rifle? 



126 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

D'Or. What has the rifle to do with your prayer? 

Cyril. I think I could pray better if I knew I was 
sure to get it. [Ramanand shakes his head.'] 

D'Or. Very well, Cyril, just pray your very best for 
me. Good night. 

Cyril. Good night. Miss Packard. Why don't you 
make M. D'Or get better? That's what nurses are for. 

MiRSKY. The young rascal will be censuring me next 
for not having M. D'Or in perfect physical condition. 
Run along. 

Cyril. \^Laughing.] Good night, everybody. [He 
goes off hastily.] 

Edith. [To D'Or.] It is time for your medicine. 

Mirsky. One moment. Miss Packard. We shall dis- 
continue that medicine; I am not satisfied with our pa- 
tient's response. We shall adopt a new course — no drugs 
at all for the next few days. 

D'Or. I am heartily glad of it. I get far more benefit 
from your talk, doctor, than from your medicines. Our 
little discussion to-night has made me forget myself for 
the time. By the way, let us see how Miss Packard feels 
about the matter. She will be an unprejudiced judge. 

Mirsky. One whose opinion will be worth having. 
[Ramanand bows politely.] 

D'Or. We were trying to decide among ourselves 
whether wealth is a blessing or a curse. Do you believe 
it brings power? 

Edith. Yes, unquestionably. 

Mirsky. Does it bring happiness? 

Edith. Certainly. Why shouldn't it bring happiness ? 

Ramanand. Does it bring sorrow and misery? 



IV Monsieur D'Or 127 

Edith. Far too often, I fear. 

D'Or. Are all three of us right in our contentions? 
Wealth seems to be rather fickle, Miss Packard, accord- 
ing to your view. 

Edith. It appears a very simple matter to me. The 
unattainable always seems attractive; what we possess is 
apt to pall after a time. Wealth does not usually bring 
power, nor happiness, nor sorrow until its possessor has 
taken some initiative in the matter. The owner of the 
wealth must in a large measure determine its influence on 
his career. 

D'Or. If you possessed great wealth, would you test 
its power to secure for you the things that you might deem 
most desirable — social position, for instance? 

Edith. I think not. I should prefer to expend it in a 
quest of happiness, but it would be a happiness that came 
from service — from using the wealth to bring sunshine 
and peace into other lives. Perhaps as a nurse I have 
come to think differently than many other women — 

MiRSKY. More self-sacrificing, I am sure. 

Ram AN and. Does Miss Packard believe in the phi- 
losophy of service — that our lives can be counted most 
successful when we make ourselves most useful to our 
fellow men? 

Edith. Assuredly. Service seems to me the ideal of 
a well-ordered life. I can imagine no finer life than that 
of my honored country-woman. Miss Eleanor Richmond — 

D'Or. {Springing up. '] Eleanor Richmond ! 

Ramanand. a noble woman, indeed, a goddess of 
charity. I met her in Bombay last year. 



128 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

MiRSKY. I have heard of her — she organized a relief 
committee for the India famine — 

Edith. Yes, and is devoted heart and soul to the great 
cause. 

D'Or. Eleanor Richmond — In India! [To Edith.] 
You know her? 

Edith. Very well. I have been with her at different 
times for several years. I was a member of her party that 
went Into the fever district. 

D'Or. She — has not married? 

Ramanand. Such a woman needs no family of her 
own. All mankind is her family! 

D'Or. How strange that you should know her. I 
always passed over the accounts of India famines In the 
papers — such unpleasant reading, such harrowing details. 

MiRSKY. Think of the heroism of a woman who will 
plunge Into the midst of such misery and desolation ! 

Ramanand. There are parts of India where Miss 
Richmond is worshiped as a saint ! 

Edith. She deserves it. I know of no one who has 
made such a splendid use of wealth as she has done. She 
has been an Inspiration to me at times when I felt weak 
and discouraged. [Moonlight shines in at the window.} 

MiRSKY. The moon has risen; what a glorious light 
it sheds into this room. We must be going, M. D'Or, if 
we are to reach the village before midnight. We shall 
have a well-lighted road, at all events. [He goes to the 
window. D'Or is staring into space.} 

Edith. I shall have the carriage sent around to the 
door. [She goes off, centre.} 



IV Monsieur D'Or 129 

Ramanand. Monsieur, I am deeply indebted to you 
and to the good doctor for the shelter you have afforded 
me, and for your tokens of good will. 

D'Or. [Recovering himself.'] And to-morrow you 
continue your westward march — in search of truth? 

Ramanand. In search of truth, M. D'Or. There is 
the most precious wealth that the earth affords. It will 
be a long and difficult quest. 

D'Or. I have been searching for truth for many years 
and in many lands; to-night I believe I have stumbled 
upon it by chance. A few hours ago I was wondering 
what new bribe I might offer Death to postpone for a 
time the final settling of my account. Now I yearn for 
a chance to redeem my past follies, to add a new and more 
creditable chapter to my career. You have done me much 
good to-night, doctor! I feel better and happier at this 
moment than I have been for many years ! 

MiRSKY. Not too fast! Don't be in too much of a 
hurry to deprive me of so profitable a patient. 

D'Or. Have no fear, doctor — ^you shall have no occa- 
sion to regret the cure that you wrought here to-night. 

MiRSKY. You are indeed a changed man — I am glad 
to see it. Good night, M. D'Or. 

Ramanand. {To D'Or.] Good night, monsieur. 
[He bows.] 

D'Or. Good night! A pleasant ride back to the 
village ! [They go out, centre. D'Or examines the wilted 
flowers and laughs softly. He then goes over to the win- 
dow and stands in the moonlight. He calls to the others 
below.] Good night! Good night! [The sound of car- 
9 



I30 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

riage wheels is heard. Edith comes in, centre, and looks 
at D'Or a few moments before speaking.l 

Edith. You may catch cold at the window — 

D'Or. [Turning.] Miss Packard! I did not hear 
you enter. 

Edith. You are feeling much better? 

D'Or. I am a new man to-night. Pray tell me, do 
you know if Eleanor Richmond is in India now? 

Edith. She is on her way to India. She wrote me 
from London that she would be at Port Said in a fortnight. 

D'Or. Port Said! You have a letter from her? 

Edith. Yes. Do you know her? 

D'Or. We were very good friends — many years ago, 
over in America. It seems so long ago — almost like 
another existence. 

Edith. Would you like to see her letter? It tells of 
her plans for the coming year. 

D'Or. You are very kind — 

Edith. I shall fetch the letter; I am sure it will in- 
terest you. [She goes off, right.] 

D'Or. [In meditation.] Fifteen years! It seems like 
a lifetime! A lifetime of hideous nightmare and delu- 
sion. Fifteen years ! [He paces the room. Edith returns.] 

Edith. Here is Miss Richmond's letter. 

D'Or. [Takes the letter to the light and tries to read. 
His hand trembles. He speaks in an uncertain voice.] 
Won't you read it for me? 

Edith. [Reading.] * I am now in London with my 
secretary, Mr. Hanson, making final preparations for 
another year's work in the Orient. Mr. Hanson's wife 
and I have been buying great quantities of supplies to be 



IV Monsieur D'Or 131 

shipped to the East. She Is a most helpful woman — just 
another like' — [A pause.} 

D'Or. [Softly.] ' Like yourself.' 

Edith. [Embarrassed, continues.] ' From all reports 
the distress is even greater than before and we shall have 
to labor harder than ever to relieve the miseries of those 
unfortunate people. How my heart bleeds for them! I 
have found many good friends who have contributed gen- 
erously to our fund, but the need is so great that we can 
never bring adequate relief. We can assist a little here 
and there, and instil new courage in those who are partly 
able to help themselves, but there Is much that we can 
never hope to undertake. I wonder that I ever had the 
hardihood to attempt this work. Now it has become my 
mission in life and it means everything to me. We shall 
be at Port Said on the 25th, and shall spend two or three 
days there. I wish you could arrange to rejoin me this 
year. I recall our days of labor among the poor In New 
York and In Chicago. You were so very' — Oh ! M. D'Or, 
won't you read the rest? 

D'Or. [Taking the letter.] Too modest to sound 
your own praises? [He reads in silence.] Very true. 
Miss Packard, what she says of you Is indeed true. No 
wonder she wants you w^ith her again. [He reads.] 
' The work Is a consecration — it has made life very sweet 
to me ' — [As he goes on, Edith silently steals from the 
room by the centre door.] ' What a pleasure it is to bring 
the light of joy and gratitude into the eyes of others. In 
my devotion to their welfare I have tried to forget an 
early sorrow of my own' — [He pauses, overcome with 
emotion. He looks up and sees that he is alone. His 



132 Monsieur D'Or SC. 

hand treTubles as he holds the letter near the lamp.] ' I 
hope we may soon meet again — time alone can tell.' 
Time alone can tell! How that phrase brings back that 
last evening together in the garden — the legend on the 
sun-dial — ^ Time will reveal all things.' — [He rises and 
stands by the window, glancing over the letter in the 
moonlight.] ' I have tried to forget an early sorrow of 
my own ' — Tried to forget! Eleanor! [He gazes at the 
letter as the curtain slowly falls.] 



EPILOG 

[A parlor in the Hotel Orientj Port Saidj furnished as 
a writing-roo?n for the guests. There is at the right a 
table with pens, ink, magazines, railway guides and fold- 
ers. At the left a table with writing materials, blotters, 
etc. Each table is flanked by two chairs. There are also 
several comfortable armchairs and a revolving case with 
time-tables and other hotel literature. From the room a 
wide central entrance leads through glass doors to a porch 
with posted placards. There are exits right and left and 
a window on the left beside the door. The sun shines 
brightly through this window and also illumines the pros- 
pect from the porch. As the curtain rises, Mr. Mathews 
enters at the centre and casts a critical eye over the room. 
He puts the papers, etc., into order at both tables and 
throws several soiled sheets into a wastebasket under the 
table on the right. Mr. Hanson enters with a large 
bundle of letters and goes to the opposite table.l 

Mathews. Good morning, Mr. Hanson. I hope you 
slept well. 

Hanson. Thank you, Mr. Mathews. My first night 
In Africa was one of undisturbed repose. What a lovely 
morning ! Is such weather common in Egypt ? 

Mathews. It Is during the season. We often have 
fine weather at this time of the year. 

Hanson. Your hotel seems quite crowded. 

Mathews. It filled up yesterday after the arrival of 
^33 



134 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

your steamer. Most of our guests are tourists who are on 
their way to Cairo and the Pyramids. 

Hanson. Have you seen Miss Richmond this morning ? 

Mathews. Yes, she is now at breakfast. What a 
charming lady she is! 

Hanson. One of Heaven's good angels, I should say. 
My wife and I have been associated with her for two 
years in her American charities and in this India relief 
work. Her soul is wrapped up in it. You should see 
how people respond to her appeal for aid. [He reads the 
mail as he talks."] One contribution after another. Our 
fellow-passengers on the ship raised a fund of one hun- 
dred pounds. 

Mathews. That reminds me to give you this check 
on behalf of the management. [He takes a check from 
his wallet.'] We desire to show our Interest in the cause. 

Hanson. Thank you very much. I am certain your 
kindness will gratify Miss Richmond. [He reads a letter 
■with an enclosure.] Here's a curious one! From the 
English missionary at Kermeh — ' ten pounds from our 
mission for the India relief fund.' Where Is Kermeh? 

Mathews. It Is far up the Nile — at the Third Cat- 
aract. That's the sort of cooperation that counts; it 
shows that Miss Richmond's noble work is known In the 
remotest regions. [He takes out his check book and 
writes.] Mr. Hanson, I wish you would add this per- 
sonal contribution to that of the management. I want to 
help a little. 

Hanson. You are Indeed generous. I wish the world 
could realize the nature of the task that Miss Richmond 
has undertaken — the feeding of Impoverished thousands 



LOG Monsieur D'Or i35 

Is but a small part of It. There are schools and hospitals 
to be provided — an effort Is being made to raise the whole 
country to a better standard of living. The fever must 
be stamped out — [Reads.'\ Twenty pounds — fifty pounds 
— Heaven bless them all. [He takes up a telegram,'] A 
dispatch from Paris. [As he reads it, the paper trembles 
in his hand. He starts up with a cry.] 

Mathews. What is the matter? 

Hanson. [Excitedly.] The matter! It's too won- 
derful to be true. I doubt whether I'm awake ! It can't 
be possible — yet here it is, black on white. It's like a 
voice from Heaven answering Miss Richmond's prayer. 
[Hands over the telegram.] Read it, Mr. Mathews. 

Mathews. [Reads.] 'The Messrs. Blaustein have 
the honor to inform Miss Richmond that securities amount- 
ing to ten million pounds' — 

Hanson. [Wildly.] It does say ten million? I'm 
not dreaming? 

Mathews. You're wide awake — it's ten million. I'm 
not familiar with the sum, but I know what the figures 
look like. [He resumes reading.] ' Securities amount- 
ing to ten million pounds have been deposited with them 
to form a permanent fund known as the Eleanor Rich- 
mond Fund, the income thereof to be expended in the 
interests of Miss Richmond's great charities throughout 
the world. Provision is made that one hundred thousand 
pounds shall be immediately available for Miss Rich- 
mond's relief work in India. The Messrs. Blaustein 
regret that they are not at liberty to mention the name of 
the donor, who prefers to remain anonymous because he 
wishes only one name to be associated with the fund — that 



136 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

of Miss Richmond herself.' Did you ever hear anything 
like that before in your life, Mr. Hanson? 

Hanson. [Almost delirious.^ Has there ever been 
anything like it before ? It is stupendous ! How can such 
a gift be kept secret! How can any human being give 
away ten million pounds without public recognition ? Can 
you realize what burdens it will lift from Miss Rich- 
mond's mind? She can now proceed safely with many 
noble enterprises which she has long hoped to carry out 
when funds were available. How she will rejoice at this 
wonderful answer to her prayers! 

Mathews. [Gravely.] By the way, Mr. Hanson, be 
careful in giving her the information. Good news may 
cause as severe a shock as bad news. Tell her gradually — 

Hanson. You're right. It's a wonder it didn't knock 
me over — I haven't had my breakfast yet. I don't believe 
a doctor w^ould recommend hearing such news on an 
empty stomach. [Enter Robert Dorr at the centre. He 
wears a plain sack suit and no jewelry of any sort. He 
seems alert and vigorous. Hanson continues to read the 
mail.] 

Dorr. Good morning, Mr. Mathews. 

Mathews. Good morning, Mr. Dorr. You are an 
early riser — the porter told me you went out at five o'clock 
for a stroll about the harbor. 

Dorr. I am enjoying the best of health. You must 
have observed the improvement in the four days that I 
have been here. The climate of Egypt is wonderful — 
bracing, invigorating! 

Mathews. [Drily.'] Yes, just now — but wait till 
next summer! 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 137 

Dorr. I haven't time to wait. I'll take your word 
for it. 

Mathews. By the way, Mr. Dorr, you ought to know 
Mr. Hanson, secretary to Miss Richmond. Mr. Hanson, 
Mr. Dorr. You are both Americans — 

Dorr. The best of reasons for our knowing each other, 
Mr. Hanson. I have heard of Miss Richmond's splendid 
services for India. You have doubtless taken part in that 
work? 

Hanson. Yes. Mrs. Hanson and I have been asso- 
ciated with Miss Richmond for several years. It has 
been a pleasure to help even a little in the great cause, but 
I've never been so happy as this morning. What do you 
think has happened ? 

Dorr. I'm sure I never could guess. 

Hanson. A noble hearted soul has established a fund 
of ten million pounds to carry on Miss Richmond's work. 

Dorr. Ten millions! Who is your Croesus? 

Hanson. That's the most remarkable part of it. He 
is as modest as he is magnanimous — he prefers to remain 
unknown. 

Dorr. What does Miss Richmond say? 

Mathews. She doesn't know it yet. The dispatch 
arrived from Paris this morning. 

Hanson. It will be the happiest day of her life, I 
am sure. 

Dorr. How long do you remain at Port Said? 

Hanson. Our steamer leaves day after to-morrow at 
ten. That reminds me, I must send off a note at once to 
the steamship office. You will pardon me ? [He goes to 
the table, left, and writes.^ 



138 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

Mathews. [Beside the table.'] Just look at that mail, 
Mr. Dorr — contributions coming in from all quarters. 
There are many hundred pounds in all, and yet how small 
that seems beside those ten millions! How would you 
like to be able to give such a donation? 

Dorr. [ Uncomfortably.] I — I think it would be very 
pleasant — I think I'd rather like it! 

Mathews. I should say so! A man with such gen- 
erous impulses should not hide his light — 

Dorr. [Interrupting.] Pardon me, Mr. Mathews, 
have you a Bradshaw handy? 

Mathews. [Indicating to the table, right.] You will 
find one on that table. [He crosses.] Here it is. [Dorr 
follows and takes a seat with his back to the others. 
Mathews turns to the back as if to go out and meets 
Eleanor Richmond. He comes front with her. Dorr 
pretends to be reading his Bradshaw.] 

Eleanor. Good morning, Mr. Mathews. It's a full 
year since I was here. How have you been ? 

Mathews. Very well. I need not ask — 

Eleanor. [Smiling.] Always well and busy. Per- 
haps I should say always well because I'm busy. What a 
lovely sunny morning. You seem to furnish such beau- 
tiful weather whenever I come to your hotel. 

Mathews. I hope you will enjoy your stay here, Miss 
Richmond. 

Eleanor. I always do. I'm sorry it must be such a 
short stay, but you know — India is calling and I'm needed 
there. [To Hanson.] Good morning, Hanson — have 
you breakfasted? 



LOG Monsieur D'Or I39 

Hanson. Not yet, Miss Richmond — I've been look- 
ing over the mail. The fact is, I'm not at all hungry — 

Eleanor. You're not getting ill, I hope? You seem 
strangely excited about something. Is the fever prevalent 
now, Mr. Mathev^^s? 

Mathews. No, indeed. I don't think anything serious 
is the matter with Mr. Hanson. He is simply suffering 
from a slight shock. 

Eleanor. A shock! Why, what has happened? 

Hanson. You see I was reading the mail — it's a 
goodly batch of letters. Nearly all of them contain do- 
nations, both large and small — I was simply overcome by 
their generosity. Here is one from the English mission at 
Kermeh in the upper Nile valley. Mr. Mathews has 
given me a check on behalf of the management of the 
hotel and a personal contribution as well. 

Eleanor. [Gratefully.'] Thank you for your aid. 
It is an inspiration to find people everywhere so anxious 
to help ! [She has taken a seat at the table, left, her back 
to Dorr. Hanson is seated at her side and Mathews is 
standing.'] 

Hanson. [Slowly and seriously.] Miss Richmond, 
you know that now and then there is an unusually large 
donation announced in the mail. [She nods expectantly 
as she looks over the letters.] That happened this morn- 
ing. [A pause.] It is the most splendid gift that your 
cause has ever received. [She drops the letters and looks 
eagerly at Hanson.] This is a trust fund, the interest 
of which is to be applied to your work. Do not be startled 
at the sum — it is very great. You remember last year the 
Earl of Shropshire gave — 



I40 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

Eleanor. Ten thousand pounds — a munificent sum! 
And you say this is even more ? 

Hanson. [Deliberately.'] Conceive the Earl of Shrop- 
shire's gift multiplied ten-fold — a hundred-fold — a thou- 
sand-fold ! 

Eleanor. [Rising fro?n her seat.] Hanson, what do 
you mean? 

Hanson. [Rising.] Miss Richmond, the amount is 
ten million pounds. [A pause. She looks from Hanson 
to Mathews. Hanson gives her the dispatch. Tense 
silence as Eleanor reads it. Dorr trembles, but does not 
look around. The paper shakes in Eleanor's hand.] 

Eleanor. [Faintly.] Ten million pounds — a perma- 
nent fund — one hundred thousand pounds Immediately 
available! [She sinks into her chair.] Can this be true? 
It is like the realization of a fairy-dream. Hanson, I 
must know the donor of this enormous fund — 

Hanson. The dispatch says he prefers to remain 
anonymous. 

Eleanor. I must know. His name may be kept secret if 
he so desires, but I must see that man and thank him from 
the bottom of my heart for the good that he Is doing. 
His bounty will reap a perpetual harvest — he must see for 
himself what his unparalleled generosity will accomplish. 

Hanson. Shall I write to the Blaustelns at Paris, 
asking that the donor's name be communicated to you? 

Eleanor. No — I shall let you have a telegram for 
them. I want to know before I leave Port Said. What 
a wonderful day this Is! You knew of it, Mr. Mathews? 

Mathews. Mr. Hanson told me just before you came 
in. Let me say In all sincerity, it is the kind of support 
that your noble work has merited all along. 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 141 

Eleanor. It makes me happy past all understanding. 
We can achieve real results now — not temporary relief, 
but permanent progress. Won't you get your breakfast, 
Hanson? I am forgetting all about you. No wonder 
you seemed so excited. I shall telegraph to the Blaustelns 
at once. [She reaches for a telegram pad and writes.] 

Hanson. Very well. [He gathers up the mail, leaving 
the dispatch from the Blausteins in Eleanor's posses- 
sion.] Mr. Mathews, won't you deposit these remittances 
In your safe for the present? [Dorr at his table writes 
out a check.] 

Mathews. Certainly. Can I be of further service. 
Miss Richmond? 

Eleanor. Not now, but I shall call upon you later. 
Let me thank you once more for your kindness! I must 
get off this dispatch at once. 

Mathews. Let me know when I can serve you In any 
way. [He goes off, centre, with Hanson. Eleanor, 
when alone at the table, reads the dispatch again, clasps it 
to her breast and looks upward in thankfulness. Trying 
to compose her own telegram, she once more reads the other 
and weeps softly as she does. DoRR rises and turns towards 
her. She is trying to compose herself to write, but cannot.] 
Dorr. [Advancing.] Pardon me, Miss Richmond — I 
should like to contribute a trifle to your fund. [He 
hands her the check.] 

Eleanor. How good of — [Looks intently at him.] 
why — I — [In a whisper.] Bobble Dorr! 
Dorr. Yes. 

Eleanor. Bobble Dorr— In Egypt! Oh! what a 
surprise! Were you sitting over there reading that Brad- 
shaw ? I took you for an Ill-mannered tourist ! 



142 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

DoRR. And you recognized me at once — after fifteen 
years. 

Eleanor. Is it as long as that? Then you must not 
mention the fact again. You've grown broader and heavier, 
Bobbie — j^ou look more sensible, too! 

Dorr. And you're just the same charming Eleanor 
that j^ou were in the old Lenox days. 

Eleanor. The idea of your saying such a thing! I 
just remarked that you seemed more sensible — now I am 
inclined to doubt it. What have you been doing all these 
jTars ? 

Dorr. Wandering over the face of Europe and learn- 
ing many things. I fear you have never forgiven me for 
the unceremonious way I cleared out after that dance of 
Aunt Martha's. I sailed from New York a few hours 
after that — that last evening we spent together, 

Eleanor. I have never forgotten that evening, Bobbie. 
You seemed like a man possessed of some evil spirit. You 
remember how you raved about the power of wealth — 

Dorr. I meant it then. My money is practically all 
gone now. 

Eleanor. You have run through that great fortune 
of your grandfather's? You have spent it all? 

Dorr. All but a very little — I couldn't give you much 
of a contribution — 

Eleanor. [Looking at the check.] How thoughtless 
of me! Here I have been holding your check all this 
time without even glancing at it. One thousand pounds ! 
Generous as ever, Bobbie! 

Dorr. I'm sorry it isn't more — 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 143 

Eleanor. [Examining the signature.^ What's this? 
What a strange way of spelling your name ! 

Dorr. I've been known as M. D'Or ever since I left 
America — it was simply a fancy of mine. Now that I'm 
through with my money, I shall be plain Bobbie Dorr 
hereafter. 

Eleanor. It certainly sounds better, Bobbie — more 
like old times. Do you know, I always felt that we 
should meet again and that you would tell me truly 
whether or not wealth can buy power — 

Dorr. It cannot, Eleanor, I admit that. I spent my 
money foolishly for the most part — that is, until recently, 
when I acquired more common sense — but I'm glad I'm 
done with it. Now I'm going to ask you a favor. 

Eleanor. What is it, Bobbie? 

Dorr. Won't you take me along to India? 

Eleanor. Take j^ou along to India ! Why, this is no 
pleasure excursion. It means work — the hardest kind of 
work. 

Dorr. [Dejectedly.l I know I don't amount to much, 
but I thought I might serve as a second or third assistant 
secretary. [Brightening.^ I was watching your secre- 
tary this morning. When the mail comes in I might open 
the envelopes and hand them over to Mr. Hanson. 

Eleanor. And what then? 

Dorr. Well, I suppose I'd have to look out of the 
window until the next mail arrived. But, Eleanor, I'm 
serious about this — I'm no longer the frivolous youngster 
I was at Lenox. 

Eleanor. We've both seen a good bit of life since 
then, Bobbie. I became interested in charitable work, and 



144 Monsieur D'Or EPI- 

my labors at home and in India have been crowned with 
great success. Did you hear us speak before of the won- 
derful good fortune that has just befallen us — the income 
of ten million pounds to be annually devoted to our cause? 
Isn't it marvelous! I was just about to write in order to 
learn the name of the donor. 

Dorr. I shouldn't ask the Blausteins about him — they 
won't tell you anyway. 

Eleanor. How did you know it was the Blausteins? 
I didn't mention their name. 

Dorr. Why, I — that is, Mr. Hanson happened to 
mention it to Mr. Mathews before you came in. 

Eleanor. And knowing that, you were willing to sit 
there in that cold-blooded manner reading your Bradshaw? 

Dorr. I didn't want to take you by surprise. I wanted 
to give you a chance to hear what Mr. Hanson had to 
say before I forced my unworthy self on your attention. 

Eleanor. What Mr. Hanson had to say? It seems 
to me that you show very little enthusiasm over this won- 
derful endowment. I must discover the donor; won't 
you help me? 

Dorr. I don't see why you bother about him. He's 
probably some eccentric old fellow — he must be a queer 
chap to turn over such a sum to a Board of Trustees — 

Eleanor. Board of Trustees — [Reading the dispatch.] 
The dispatch says nothing about a Board of Trustees! 

Dorr. Doesn't it? Well, you see, they usually do 
such things in that way. I inferred from what Mr. 
Hanson said to Mr. Mathews — 

Eleanor. [Alert.] Bother Mr. Hanson and Mr. 
Mathews. [Coming closer.] Bobbie Dorr, tell me the 



LOG Monsieur D'Or 145 

truth. You left us fifteen years ago to prove that wealth 
was power. 

Dorr. I know I made myself ridiculous. I believed 
then that humanity could be bought and sold like mer- 
chandise over a counter. For a time I succeeded after a 
fashion. I know better now. I confess my defeat. 

Eleanor. [Watching him.] What did you do with 
that large fortune, Bobbie? 

Dorr. [Evasively.] It's all gone — no use crying over 
spilled milk. I'm rather poor now, and glad of it. There's 
just enough left to provide for my wants. All the rest 
is gone. Why do you look at me so strangely? It's all 
spent — that is, I got rid of it — I had no further use for 
it — I — gave it away — I — 

Eleanor. Bobbie! It was you!! 

Dorr. Eleanor, a few moments ago you remarked to 
Mr. Hanson that you wanted the donor of that fund to 
see what good it would accomplish. Now I — I'm willing 
to confess — provided you take me along to India. 

Eleanor. You have triumphed, after all! Wealth 
is power! 

Dorr. Only when such a noble soul as yours dispenses 
it. [He takes her hand.] Give me a chance, Eleanor! 
May I go along to India? 

Eleanor. Yes. [She picks up he?- half-finished dispatch 
to the Blausteins and sinilingly they look at it as the cur- 
tain falls.] 



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